#oh do u remember home phones? with a cord | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inskz · 4 years

Text

raspberry popsicle - hwang hyunjin

pairing - hwang hyunjin + convenience store worker!reader

genre - lots of fluff, a bit of angst ??? idk i hope u cry a little at the end lmao

warnings - alcohol and cigarette

words - 12+k

summary - a beautiful stranger comes to the convenience store you work at during summer every single day to buy raspberry popsicles

note - this is the first time i finally managed to finish an english fic so i thought why not post it! please bear with the inconsistencies this was written at 3am while i was feeling rlly nostalgic abt a summer i didn’t have 🥴. enjoy!!!

-----

Hyunjin met you on the warmest day of August.

He could barely keep his eyes open, even hidden behind his square-shaped sunglasses, as he walked down the street, the scorching heat of the sun forcing him to take refuge in the closest 7/11 he managed to find on google maps.

The excessive air conditioning slapped his cheeks when the sliding doors opened. Even though he felt like his throat was already itching, warning him not to stay too long if he did not want to catch a cold, he was thankful to escape momentarily the living hell that was a summer in Jeju. Warm rays of sunlight were replaced by glitching neon lights. At this hour of the day, the convenience store was pretty much empty. The whole town must have been gathered at the beach. He could feel a bead of sweat dripping down his neck at the simple thought of all the bodies piled up on the sand. When he finally found the freezer, he grabbed a raspberry popsicle. It had always been his favorite for as long as he could remember.

At first, you did not notice him approaching the checkout, too immersed in the music blasting in your earphones. In fact, your music was so loud, Hyunjin was able to make out the bass. Indie rock, he assumed. An old fan was blowing lukewarm air in your messy hair. As you finished your umpteenth spin on your rusty stool, your eyes finally met his.

"Sorry. Did not see you there," you said, jumping up and taking off your earphones in a hurry, as if you were caught red-handed. Your boss must have forbidden you to listen to music on your shifts, he guessed. You stuffed the tangled cords deep in the pocket of your forest green sleeveless vest. Hyunjin couldn’t help but wonder how someone could look that good in this horrid uniform.

"It's okay," Hyunjin muttered but you did not seem to hear him as you were too busy taping on the cash register's screen. His cheeks felt hot all the sudden, but for once it was not from the heat of the sun.

"One fifty please". He proceeded to empty out his pockets, the golden coins landing on the counter with a loud noise. Without even glancing at him, you put them in the cash-drawer.

And as quickly as he came, Hyunjin was out the door, the burning air engulfing him again, sinking into every pore of his skin. But he could not bring himself to go home yet. Instead, he sat under the shade of the parasol installed in front of the convenience store’s window, glancing occasionally at you.

Unconsciously, a smile grew on his lips as he saw that you were already back to your antics, earphones in your ears, bopping your head to the sound of your playlist.

He did not realize how long he had been sitting here until he felt a sticky liquid running down his fingers. His popsicle had melted. “Fuck”, he muttered as he saw that his white vans were now tinted pink.

-----

You’d be lying if you said the stranger’s daily visits were not the only reason you looked forward to starting your shift at 6 in the morning while all your friends were still fast asleep after long nights of partying. He would come every day around 2, except on Sundays when the shop would be closed, to get his raspberry treat.

After a week, your exchanges still had not gotten further than the usual “hello”, “one fifty please”, “thanks” and “goodbye”. Not that you did not have the desire to, but because you have always been terrified of small talk. How you got hired despite your constant resting bitch face was an unsolved mystery.

On Thursday, he entered the 7/11 at exactly 2:13 PM and, as always, went straight to the freezer. You immediately turned up the volume of your music to silence your ridiculously intense heartbeat. Of course, you blamed it on your social anxiety. What more could it be?

While he was choosing his ice cream, you could not help but stare at his broad back. You noticed how strands of bleached hair escaped from his black bucket hat. How the collar of his Hawaiian shirt was slightly crooked, causing your fingers to ache to fix it. How the bottom of his jean shorts was getting a little bit more frayed each day. How his white vans were stained pink.

The sound of the freezer’s door slamming shut made you come back to your senses. You could not bring yourself to look at him in the eyes when he finally reached the checkout. Instead, the yellow color of the popsicle he slid onto the counter immediately caught your attention.

“Don’t we have any raspberry ones left?” you thought out loud. You only realized these words actually came out of your mouth when it you saw the boy’s eyes widen and his lips part in surprise. A wave of embarrassment hit you. He must have thought you were a crazy stalker, taking note of what he was buying every single day.

“Oh, no you got plenty left... I just wanted to try something new, I guess,” he said.

It was the first time you saw his true smile, not just the polite kind. It was shy at first, but then it bloomed across his flushed cheeks causing the skin of his nose to wrinkle and his eyes to turn into shining crescents. Never had you seen such a pretty vision. The type of vision that was making your heart ache. You wanted to answer him so badly, to keep the conversation going for hours. But no matter how hard you thought, nothing came to your mind.

"One fifty, please" were all the words you managed to say with your usual nonchalant tone. You fought the urge to slap yourself when you saw his smile slowly fading, a hint of disappointment crossing his face.

Not wanting this mortifying episode to last any longer, you quickly took his bill from his hands and gave him his change almost instantly. As soon as he disappeared behind the sliding doors, a loud sigh escaped your lips, resonating in the empty aisles. You let your head fall on the counter, your eyes already closing in an attempt to calm your nerves.

Why did you have to be so damn cold?

-----

Hyunjin’s vacations were about to come to an end, yet the heat was just as unbearable as when they started. Time had stopped. Days were endless, suffocating, empty. They blended together to create a vicious and infinite loop. The sun did not seem to be wanting to set and put an end to Hyunjin’s misery. It felt like a stifling drought interrupted his fast-paced life. Like scissors cut off his wings, violently bringing him back to the ground. No matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to enjoy his time off.

First of all, because it was not his choice. When the company announced a summertime hiatus for Stray Kids, it came as a surprise for everyone. It just did not feel right, not after their recent successes. But like many other decisions, it wasn’t in their power. They were sent home and forced to rest.

Mostly because he was supposed to join his parents on their trip to Jeju, but the universe decided otherwise. At the last minute, his grandmother broke her wrist by falling in the stairs and his father’s boss resigned. Nothing too alarming in itself, but his mother had to be by his grandmother’s bedside and his father had to take care of the tasks suddenly left uncompleted by his now former superior.

This is how Hyunjin, who was so used to be surrounded by seven brothers from another mother, ended up watching all the episodes of Hotel de Luna, twice, alone, in an empty beach house for two weeks straight. In the beginning, he found it kind of enjoyable. He spent the first few days sleeping-in, taking endless showers, eating snacks for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But slowly he started to miss waking up at dawn, racing to get in the shower first, fighting for the drumstick when they ordered chicken. Now it was almost unbearable. He hated the silence that he once longed for.

Of course, he thought about calling his friends and family on the phone. And he did at first, but as soon as he would hang up his loneliness would grow, multiply, swallow him whole. So, he had stopped. He also thought about going out and meeting new people. But he got so used to always having his members by his side that he forgot about how you even make new ones. He felt like a fool, not even being able to do the usual tasks of a normal teenager.

The only interaction with another living being he had was with you. Each day, he was counting the hours until he would go buy a raspberry popsicle, especially if it meant that he would see your face. Admittedly, you did not seem as excited to see his. You weren’t cheerful nor loquacious. Your whole body screamed “go away” but he still felt drawn to you. Maybe it was the way you’d mimic the drums with your fingers when you were absorbed by your music. Or how pretty you looked in that green uniform. Or the fact that you remembered raspberry was his favorite flavor.

That day, he decided loneliness had become too heavy of a burden for him. He wasn’t really realizing what he was doing when he grabbed a second popsicle out of the freezer. Afraid that he might chicken out if he thought about it too long, he walked so fast to the checkout that he almost bumped in the pile of baskets sitting next to your stool. He felt a slight relief when he saw that you noticed his purchase was different than the usual by the way you had furrowed your brows.

“Hey. This one is for you”, he said, sliding the bright pink wrapper across the counter.

Instead of reaching for the treat, your fingers started to play with the cord of your earphones. For once, you looked at him straight in the eyes. Normally you would be too focused on your cash register's screen to pay attention to him. As his confidence was melting under your gaze like an ice cream under the sun, he wondered if he actually didn’t like it better when you didn’t stare at him. Your expression was unreadable, at least for him. He had never been good at those type of things anyways.

“It must be hard to work during vacations” he added with a voice that seemed to be about to crack. He could not help but scratch the back of his head in an attempt to fight back his embarrassment.

He swore he caught a glimpse of the corners of your mouth slightly curl up, betraying your regular nonchalance. “Thanks” you responded with your usual tone, as you grabbed the popsicle, but the ghost of a smile was still lingering on your face. “3 dollars please”. He gave you the exact amount and was already on his way to the exit.

He felt a bit disappointed by your reaction but what was he even expecting? As he was trying to convince himself to be content with just seeing your smile, as discreet as it was, he heard your voice, piercing through the noise of the neon lights and refrigerators buzzing.

“Wait. I have my break in 10 minutes… Can you wait for me? We can eat it outside”. Was he hallucinating or did you actually asked him to eat together? He had to check your face several times to make sure he had not gotten crazy. Considering the way you were staring at him with your eyebrow arched, he figured he wasn’t dreaming and you were impatiently waiting for his answer. “I have to go get some fresh air anyways”, you added, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“Sure”, he finally said, doing his best to keep his cool but he knew too well that his face had turned crimson red.

“I gotta put the popsicles back into the freezer otherwise it will be melted by then”. Your fingers reached for his. He noticed how small your hand seemed next to his, how the black polish on your nails was chipped, how cold your skin felt against his.

Once he was sure you were holding the popsicles, he sprinted out of the convenience-store. It was only when he got outside that he realized he had been holding his breath all this time.

-----

The next 10 minutes felt like a real ordeal. Not even the last album of the Strokes blasting in your earphones could distract you from the fact that the cutest boy you had ever seen was sitting on the sidewalk waiting for you, right in the middle of your field of vision.

You decided to swivel your stool towards the old clock instead. Seven minutes left before you could take your break. Your foot was tapping frantically on the white tiles. You were not sure if you wanted the minute hand to reach the 6 already or to stop right here in its track. Get this over with already or never have to talk to the boy again.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore his presence, you just could not. Maybe if the small TV mounted on the wall had been playing something a little bit more interesting than ads for beers and tampons you would have been able to, but sadly it was not the case.

You finally caved in, your gaze going back to him. Once again, you couldn’t help but stare at his shoulders. Unfortunately, he ended up turning around, catching you ogling. “Shit” you whispered under your breath, mortified.

That was it, you thought. Even though there were still 2 more minutes left on the clock, you couldn’t stay here anymore. Otherwise you would have probably died of embarrassment by the time would be up.

You went to find the two popsicles you had put back into the freezer. You also decided to grab two cokes on your way out. You let out a loud breath, unsuccessfully trying to release the tension that had built up in your chest, before the sliding doors opened.

“Here” you said, holding out the popsicle and the drink to the boy. He grabbed it with a small “thank you” and a soft smile. The concrete burned the back of your thighs, left exposed by your worn-out denim shorts, when you sat by his side. The bright blue of the sky hurt your pupils. There wasn’t a single cloud on the horizon.

“I forgot how hot it was outside” you finally said. And you really meant it. It felt like you just went from a fridge to a 390 degrees oven.

“You work all day?” he asked, his face turning to yours. You noticed that he was already halfway through his coke. He must have been so thirsty. You felt bad for making him wait under the sun.

You nodded, as you took a sip of the beverage. “From 6 to 9. I start and finish my shift when the weather is still bearable” you explained.

You looked at your bare arms that were already heating up. They did not see the sun more than a few times this summer. You must have looked ill compared to the tanned vacationers. “I did not put sunscreen on” you said, thinking about how your mom used to nag you when you were young when you would stay under the sun for too long.

“You should probably go sit under the shade”, he suggested, his head turning to the plastic chair the convenience store had provided.

As you sat in it, you could not help but wonder if he purposely saved the place for you. It was positioned in such a way that you couldn’t clearly see the boy’s face, only his back and a bit of his profile. And what a profile. Chiseled jaw, delicate nose, pouty lips, pierced ears. You found yourself enjoying the view way more than you should have been. There was something so pleasant about being able to take a closer look at someone without being scrutinized back. But the lovely vision was disturbed by the beads of sweat that were forming at your eyebrows. You wiped it off quickly with the back of your hand.

“I fucking hate summer breaks” you sighed. The words came out harsher than you expected as you tore the fuchsia wrapper that protected the popsicle.

“Could not agree more” he said, between two licks. The way he was eating his popsicle was just sinful, you thought.

“Really? That’s an unpopular opinion though.”

“I guess I’m not used to breaks,” he shrugged.

“What do you do?” His answer had spiked your curiosity. He looked fairly young, around the same age as you. You wondered what kind of occupation would take up so much time of his life. Worker at a factory? Top athlete? Freelancer?

Oddly enough, he took a few seconds to answer as if he was not sure himself. “I’m a hip-hop dancer” he finally said, turning around to see your reaction.

“No offense but that sounds like an all year long vacation to me” you teased him.

A laugh escaped his pink lips. Ringing and honest. It was music to your ears. “It’s really not, trust me. What about you?”.

“I’m a college student. I’m majoring in macroeconomics”. His once innocent smile turn into a teasing one. You rolled your eyes but the corners of your lips, already curling up, betrayed you. “I know. Sounds boring. It’s boring actually”.

“I always wondered what the usual college student day looks like”.

“Wake up. Eat. Drink. Party. Sleep. Repeat. Oh, and sometimes go to class,” you counted on your fingers.

“TV shows are not lying then?” he asked, cocking his brow.

“They are. They make it seem fun when in reality it’s just the same stupid people doing the same stupid shit every single day. It gets exhausting really quickly... Oh and don’t get me started on hangovers, they make you regret going everytime.” You stopped your rant there and went back to eating your popsicle, afraid that you might have made him uneasy.

But it didn’t seem like it. Instead, he looked pensive, almost sad. “I wish I could live like that sometimes...”

“What’s keeping you from partying right now? You’re here with you parents?” Vacations were the perfect time to get wasted so it was surprising he did not seize the opportunity to do so, like all the other teens in town.

“I was supposed to, but something came up last minute. So, I’m all by myself. I don’t know anybody here,” he admitted. Although he turned his head to the other side, hiding his face from you, you could sense a bit of embarrassment in his voice.

You both fell silent, acting like you were too busy eating your popsicles to talk. You didn’t know when you decided to speak up. You couldn’t even remember what your train of thought was. But here you were, about to say a sentence you had never thought you would be saying to stranger one day.

“Hey, I’m meeting with my friends tonight. Do you wanna come?” The heat had probably melted your brain, you thought. There was no way you would have uttered those words if you had been in your right mind. You held your breath, waiting for his answer.

His eyes immediately went back to yours, lighting up with expectancy. “Will they be okay with it?”

“I think so. They always bring a plus one last minute without warning me. So that will be my revenge” you laughed, trying to conceal the nervousness that was growing in your stomach as you were realizing the implications of your offer.

“You sure?”

An old man was coming your way, a large shopping bag on his shoulders. A curse escaped your lips as you checked your phone. It was way past your break time. “If you insist, I’ll call them to ask. I gotta go.” As the client entered the shop, you quickly got up and threw the popsicle stick in the closest bin, along with the wrapper “I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with this popsicle, it’s really not that good”, you muttered on your way to the entrance.

“Wait. Where do we meet up tonight?” he stuttered as he sprung to his feet.

“Be there by 9” you yelled before disappearing being the sliding doors.

-----

When the client left, his basket full of oranges and peaches, you decided to call your friend as promised. You reluctantly pressed Minju’s contact picture. In order to have your hands free and be able to refill the aisles with ramen packets, you stuck your phone between your ear and shoulder. You regretted it immediately when she picked up the phone, her loud voice hurting your eardrum.

“You better not be calling me to cancel tonight’s plans.” You’d be lying if you said that the absence of any kind of greetings came as a surprise. Her answer was easily explainable by the fact that your phone calls were rarely auspicious since you despised calling and only did it instead of texting when you had something to apologize for.

“Yeah, about that… Just wanted to warn you, I’m bringing a friend tonight”. You could not help but wince at your own words, already predicting her answer.

“You have other friends than us?” She asked in her famous mocking tone, making you regret instantly your prior boldness. It was so unlike you to invite a total stranger and Minju knew it too well.

“I met him recently, he comes to the shop everyday”, you tried to explain.

“He? A boy?” She gasped and your mind could clearly imagine her shocked face as if she was standing right in front of you, hands on the cheeks and mouth agape. You’re pretty sure your eyes rolled all the way back to your head.

Your friend must have guessed it because you could hear her repressing a giggle. “Okay, okay” She said, regaining her composure. “What’s the lucky man’s name?” she allowed herself to ask. A sudden realization hit you.

You did not even know his name.

-----

As Hyunjin walked down the same street, his pace faster than usual, he felt his heartbeat increase and his hands getting clammy. The sun had not set yet, but the sky’s color had changed, shades of pink and oranges replacing the garish blue. A fresh breeze was tickling his nose and caressing his cheeks. The linen shirt he wore would probably come handy by the end of the night, when the air would have completely cooled off but for now, the tension in his body was making him sweat profusely. He felt like a frightened teenager going to his first party. Which, to be honest, was not that far from the truth.

When he entered the shop, you were running everywhere, apologizing for being late. He offered his help to close the shop, which you accepted but only after he insisted. Fifteen minutes later, as you were finally about to lower the shutters and leave, you stopped dead in your tracks.

“We can’t come empty handed”, you muttered to yourself. You went back into the 7/11 and grabbed a pack of beers and a bottle of coke from the fridge, as well as a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka behind the counter. The night promised to be eventful and Hyunjin could not help but feel slightly excited as if he was about to break the rules. And in fact, he was probably going to break his company’s rules tonight.

Even at this hour, the subway was packed by teenagers going out for the night and businessmen coming home late to their family. It forced the both of you to stay quiet, the chatters and the rails’s screeching making you unable to hear each other anyways.

Hyunjin caught a glimpse of your reflection in the window. You looked tired, staring into space, as you were holding the heavy bottles. He could sense that you definitely weren’t as excited as him to go out. Your body was slouching against the metal door, as if you carried the weight of the world on your shoulder.

At each station, you would mindlessly move aside to let people get on and off. He could not help but stare at your features that had seemed to age in a matter of hours. You looked jaded, as if you already saw everything that life had to offer you and that it did not live up to your expectations.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but wonder if you regretted inviting him. He unsuccessfully tried to ease his mind by convincing himself it was probably the long day of work you had behind you and not his presence that was making this apathetic.

Moments later, you were already at the host’s door, pushing on the intercom’s button reluctantly. The person that picked up did not even care to ask you who you were before allowing you in.

Hyunjin was surprised there wasn’t any beer pong table or bowl of punch. No expensive mansion, no pool filled with girls in bikinis, no flashing lights, no blasting electro music. Only about twenty tipsy teenagers gathered around the couch and the dining table, sipping on cheap drinks and sharing cigarettes, listening to commercial music. It looked nothing like the movies but at least Hyunjin felt a little bit less nervous in this familiar setting.

-----

You could not bother to go around the room and say hi to everybody. Firstly, because you didn’t know at least half of the persons there and did not care to meet them. Mostly, because you spent the last month ghosting the people you did know and did not want to confront them. Instead, you went straight to the wooden dining table, barely visible under all the unhealthy snacks and beverages, where Minju was seated.

“Here comes Y/N, guys”, she yelled as if you were the literal messiah, but thankfully nobody was listening, too busy getting wasted. When her eyes went from you to your guest, they doubled in size.

“So, this is the guy you were hiding all this time”, she teased, and you could see the boy’s ears turning bright red, even in this dim lighting.

“I’m Minju,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

“Hyunjin” he responded with a shy smile as their palms met. Even though you wanted to strangle her for embarrassing you in front of everybody, you had to admit her antics were useful for once, since it allowed you to finally learn the stranger’s name. And what a name. You found yourself repeating it in your head again and again and again… It fit his features perfectly: soft and dreamy.

You had to snap out of it, you thought. All these feelings were so out of character. “I need a shot. Want one?” You asked Hyunjin. Before he could even answer, you were already grabbing the bottle of vodka and hastily pouring the liquor in two small glasses.

“Sure” he said as he reached for the alcohol. You clinked your glasses, looking straight into each other eyes, before downing the bitter liquid in one shot. His face contorted dramatically as soon as his lips touched the vodka, making you chuckle.

The lighthearted moment did not last long since you saw Jiwon coming in your direction. You had met him at you first Halloween college party. He was your typical frat boy, friendly and noisy, but mostly silly. To your surprise, he had taken interest in you and made his mission to transform you into an extrovert by the end of the year, which, by the way, did not happen and was not about to happen anytime soon. His intentions weren’t bad but his constant nagging about socializing only made you drift further away. And tonight, you definitely weren’t going to put up with his bullshit. When he reached the table, you avoided his gaze by reaching for the bottle once again.

“I might need another one” you muttered under your breath as you quickly poured yourself a second drink, swallowing it in a matter of second, your throat burning and chest warming up.

“Y/N! It’s been a while. Where have you been?” Jiwon asked you, putting his arm around your shoulders.

“Working” you replied curtly. The boy just laughed at your boorish behavior, used to it by now, and playfully shook your shoulder.

“We’re gonna play ‘never have I ever’. Wanna join?” he asked at your intention but also at Hyunjin’s.

“I’ll pass”, you immediately responded, not in the mood for revealing all your dirty little secrets to strangers. When were you ever in the mood, anyway?

“If you didn’t already know Hyunjin, Y/N is the definition of a party pooper”, Minju slurred as if her mouth was full of marbles. You could already predict the fact that you’ll probably spend the end of your night holding your friend’s hair while she pukes in the toilets. “But I’m sure you’re much more fun than her”.

“It’s really not that hard.” Jiwon added, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.

Hyunjin looked at you as if he was asking your permission to participate in the drinking game. You suddenly felt guilty, realizing you were probably ruining his night by acting so sour. You nodded for him to go and not to worry about you. He smiled back at you as Minju was already grabbing him by the arm to drag him to the living room. He found a seat on the rug, between two pretty girls whose names and faces you couldn’t remember.

After hesitating between staying at the dining table, moping around and binging on sour cream and onion chips, or moving closer to the group of players, you decided to come and seat on the armrest of the sofa to observe the game. Hyunjin’s nervousness seemed to lessen a bit when he saw that you were now just in front of him, only separated by the coffee table filled with glasses, and you could not help but find it adorable. His eyes left yours to find Jiwon’s as he handed him a dark green bottle of beer.

“Okay so here is the twist. We’re gonna play the other way around. I say something I have done and people who never did it must drink. That way goody two-shoes get drunk for once. I’m sure the others don’t need help to get drunk anyways”, the girl on the right of Hyunjin explained and the partygoers approved loudly.

“I’ll start slow. I have had a blackout before” she said, a smile creeping up on her mouth. Hyunjin looked around as if he was waiting for some type of signal. When he saw a few other people drinking, he took a sip of his beer.

As expected, a guy was already bickering with his friend about whether or not he could really remember the time he danced naked on the kitchen counter on New Year’s Eve. With each statement, the players became more and more tipsy, more and more loud. It would usually get on your nerves and you would go take refuge in the bathroom to ease your growing headache, but surprisingly you did not mind the noise.

Probably because all you could pay attention to at the moment was the boy in front of you. You could not help but secretly watch his every move. You hoped nobody noticed you were staring. So far, he had drunk at almost every round. Thankfully it was just beer and not another strong liquor, otherwise he would have been too far gone to even be able to get up on his feet by now.

Your mind started wandering. It was filled with questions only him could answer but that you will probably never ask. You wondered what his life was like. You had never seen someone drink this much during a “never have I ever”. Certainly because people who knew they would be drinking this much usually abstained from participating. But Hyunjin looked like he was having the time of his life losing every single round.

How come someone like him had so little experience? He did not seem like the party animal type, so you weren’t surprised when he took large gulps when a girl said she had thrown up on a friend before and when a guy stated he once fell flat on his face because of how pissed out drunk he was. But how come he never had a long-term relationship nor a one-night stand? How come he never had to hide a hickey? How come he never broke up with someone? How come he never made out in public? To say the boy was a mystery to you would have been an understatement.

His actions were getting clumsier, his laugh getting louder, his lids getting heavier, his cheeks getting redder, yet you were mesmerized. The usual aversion you’d feel towards inebriated teens had magically vanished at his captivating sight. How could someone look this beautiful, even with their guard down?

As he finished his third bottle of beer, the blonde girl on his left was already opening him another one with her lighter. You could barely hear what he was saying to her above the music and the screams, but you sensed that the alcohol was starting to become a bit too much for him as she forced the drink in his reluctant hands.

“I’ll replace Hyunjin” you said, leaping up instantly to everyone’s surprise including Hyunjin’s. He stared at you with big eyes and you suddenly felt dumb, standing here while everybody was slumped on the Persian rug.

“Here comes your knight in shining armor, Hyunjin,” Jiwon said, breaking the awkward silence by laughing loudly as if it was the highlight of his night.

“Are you scared your boyfriend is gonna get out of control, Y/N?” the blonde asked, a smirk dancing on her bright red lips. Hearing your name in her mouth came as a surprise to you since you were pretty sure you had never seen her before. But it’s not like you paid attention to drunk girls at parties. You let out a forced laugh as you got around the coffee table, trying not to crush fingers or knock over red solo cups.

“I’m just way too sober for this shitty party”, you said while you finally managed to plop down gracelessly between Hyunjin and the blonde. You addressed her your biggest, brightest, sardonic smile before you snatched the bottle she was trying so hard to give to the boy from her.

You tried to avoid Hyunjin’s gaze by staring at the round stains left on the wooden table by previous glasses, as if it was the most interesting thing you ever saw. But it was impossible to ignore his presence when your bare shoulder was flushed against his. You suddenly became so aware of how cold your skin was compared to his. You felt your heart beat in your biceps. You secretly damned the vintage muscle tee he was wearing. You would probably have found it ugly on anybody else but, oh god, did it look good on him.

You finally dared to take a look at his face, only to meet his dark hooded eyes. He was looking straight into your soul, making you feel naked, stripped down from your armor. It seemed like any kind of shyness had left him as alcohol had infiltrated his body. You could have sworn he was gradually leaning forward, getting closer to your face inch by inch, second by second. As he suddenly lost his balance, you moved just in time to avoid his head, which ended up bumping against shoulder.

“Woah, sorry” he giggled while he grabbed onto your forearm for additional support. His fingertips were burning your skin, his smile was frying bour brain.

You could see Minju smirking out of the corner of your eyes, making you instantly get a hold on yourself. There was no way you would give your friend the satisfaction of seeing you flustered because of a boy.

“My turn,” you said, after clearing your throat. “I have gone skinny dipping before.”

-----

Hyunjin could not tell how much time had passed until he finally realized you had disappeared when he felt like he was on fire. Your coldness was gone and the little voice inside his head was urging him to go find it again.

He got up, his legs wobbly as if he was walking with high heels on quicksands, and wandered down the corridor. The alcohol had his head buzzing. He could not trust his senses anymore, his eyes were playing games, twisting and blurring his surroundings. Thankfully, there were no countless doors leading to dark rooms filled with strangers making out. Just your usual messy bedrooms and small bathroom, making it a lot easier to find you.

When he turned the silver knob of the second door, he was immediately warned by the scent of burnt tobacco. He could make out your figure, standing on the small balcony. Your features were lit by the moonlight. The smoke coming from your cigarette was creating shadows on your face and the fresh wind was blowing in your untamed baby hair. For the first time you looked soft, almost fragile.

You only seemed to notice his presence when he tripped on the windowsill, making a blaring noise that echoed into the empty street. Even though he was drunk, he could still see you were repressing a laugh.

“You look like you’re having fun” you said, backing onto the balustrade and crossing your arms over your chest, your halfway smoked cigarette stuck between your index and middle fingers.

“Yeah. Thanks for bringing me” he responded, climbing onto the bar of the balustrade like a kid would do to be able to look outside despite his small height. He did not know he had vertigo until he looked down the 5 stories. You grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back to the ground as his head was spinning.

He stole your cigarette and brought it to his lips to take a drag. He immediately regretted his decision when the smoke burnt his esophagus, making him almost choke. He gave it back to you with a sheepish smile. But you seemed amused by his childish antics.

“My friends seem to like you a lot”, you said, ignoring his embarrassing attempt at acting like a bad boy. “I’d say even more than they like me”.

“No, they don’t” he snorted.

“Yes, they do” you chuckled. You took a long drag of your cigarette as you turned around to look at the moon. A cloud of smoke escaped your lips and nostrils, tingling Hyunjin’s unaccustomed nose. “But don’t worry. That was the reaction I was hoping for when I invited you.”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed. He could not quite comprehend what you were meaning by that and the alcohol flowing through his veins was probably not helping.

“I knew they would pay attention to you and not me. It’s a win-win situation. You’re having a great time and they’re leaving me in peace for once. I don’t think I would have been able to put up with another ‘why are you so quiet’ or ‘smile a little more’ comment”, you explained, addressing him a small smile. He noticed you were trying hard to hide a certain form a sadness, but it shone through your steel mask anyways. He could see it in the way your eyes would linger for too long on the accumulated ashes and your breath would shake.

“You really hate them, huh?” He realized his question was gauche a second too late. A silence settled in between the two of you, only disrupted by the sound of the wind blowing in the trees. The moon was almost full and there was no cloud in the navy sky to soften the light it shone on you.

“I don’t hate them. I hate the way they make me feel”, you finally admitted as if you were dying to say those words out loud for so long.

“How do they make you feel?” Hyunjin inquired hesitantly.

“Like I’m out of place” you said. “Have you ever felt lonely in a room full of people? I feel that way each time I show up to those parties. That is why I stopped coming. The worst thing is my friends try so hard to make me feel like I belong here, to the point that it becomes annoying. They keep on inviting me and dragging me everywhere they go. Yet, it doesn’t work.” You sighed heavily and flicked the ash at the tip of your cigarette. “The problem is not them. It’s me”, you muttered to yourself, but Hyunjin could hear the pain in your voice.

“And how do I make you feel?” He dared to ask, preparing himself to have his feelings hurt.

“Honestly? Jealous. I wonder how you do… this,” you said, waving your hand in his face.

“What is “this”?” he giggled.

“Being so charming.” You looked at your shoes, your cheeks flushing red as if complimenting him was the most embarrassing thing you had ever done. He could not help but find your behavior endearing. A teasing smile was painted on Hyunjin’s face, making you roll your eyes. He bumped your shoulder with his to get a laugh from you. He felt relieved to see you finally smile.

“You’re gonna probably roll your eyes at what I’m gonna say but there aren’t only good sides to being well-liked” he started hesitantly.

Your reaction pushed him to continue. It looked like he had all your attention, like you were genuinely interested in knowing how he felt. It had always been hard for him to talk about it, even with his members since he didn’t want to be an additional burden. But he found a sense of comfort in telling an almost total stranger. If truth be told, he felt like he could tell you everything at this exact moment.

“I’m always wondering if the person they like is the real me or the front I’m trying to put up every single day. I’m scared they’ll find out who I really am and get bored of me. Or even worst, disgusted by me”. He was so used to hiding every single one of his flaws. A perfect man, that is what he was always asked to be. Perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect outfit, perfect personality, perfect performance. He was taught the smallest misdemeanor would lead not only to his downfall, but his friends’ too. What a heavy burden to carry when you’re still just a lost and confused teenager. “I feel like an impostor.” His members probably felt the same way sometimes, but it was obsessing him. He couldn’t count the number of nights he stayed awake wondering if he really earned his place by working himself into the ground or if was just lucky to be born with a pretty face.

“Then who’s the real you?” you asked quietly. Your eyes were shining in the dark, your long lashes surrounding them like the petals of two rare flowers. He felt like he could dive into them, get lost in the abyss and never come back up to the surface, as if he would find the answer to your question there. For a minute, it seemed like he forgot how to breathe, how to think. He finally came back to his senses when you stubbed out your cigarette, breaking the entrancing contact between the two of you.

“An insecure and sensitive drama queen”, he said with a fake solemn tone like a spy revealing his real identity.

“I would love to get to know her somedays” you joked, grinning from ear to ear. How badly he wanted to pinch your pink cheeks right now, to squeeze you so tight you’d pop in his arms.

“How about tonight?”

You spent the next few hours on the small balcony discussing your everyday lives, sharing your guiltiest pleasures, revealing your darkest secrets, keeping each other warm by huddling up. He discovered you were polar opposites. You despised coffee while he would kill for a good iced Americano. Hyunjin enjoyed listening to hip-hop, you preferred rock. You liked old black and white movies while he’d never say no to go see the new marvel one in theaters. He’d always pick sweet raspberry over any other flavor, but you’d choose bitter lemon. You strived at night, when no one was watching, whereas he lived under the constant spotlight, scrutinized by strangers. He felt like the sun and you looked like the moon. He was the summer, warm and welcoming, and you were the winter, cold and impenetrable. You were so far away from each other, worlds apart. Yet, never had he felt this close to someone before. In your presence, he felt at home.

The creaking sound of the door opening interrupted your conversation. “Guys, Yerin is kicking everybody out” Jiwon said. Minju, trying hard to keep her eyes open but loosing miserably against the alcohol and the sleepiness, was gripping the boy’s shoulder tightly, using him as a crutch.

“What time is it?” you asked, getting back inside the bedroom. Hyunjin followed reluctantly. Never had he hated someone more than Jiwon right now for putting an end to such a magical moment. He had to fight the urge to scream at the intruders to go away and leave the two of you alone. But it was too late, the atmosphere had already shifted, and you were back to the usual detached attitude you displayed in public.

“It’s already 3 am. I’m taking Minju back to her place” he answered. You thanked him, obviously relieved not to be the one in charge of taking care of your drunk best friend.

When your group arrived in the living room, Hyunjin saw a girl who was trying to clean up the mess the guests made. He would have offered his help if he had not seen that you were already out of the door, waiting for him. Jiwon and Minju left immediately in a yellow cab that was waiting for them.

Once again, you and Hyunjin were alone, surrounded by the silence of the dark night.

“I don’t wanna go home yet”, he whispered to himself, as he watched the few stars the polluted air of the city allowed him to see, his back pressed against the concrete wall of the building.

“Me neither”, you admitted. His heart jumped in his chest at the thought that you wanted to spend more time with him. His eyes dared to find yours. They were sparkling in excitement. A few hours ago, never he would have hoped to see you react in such a way. Only him seemed to be allowed to see this facet of yours. You made him feel so special.

“Let’s go somewhere else” he said.

“Where?”

That was a good question. Where do teenagers go in the middle of the night if it isn’t to a house party? “I’ve never been to a club before”, he suggested after racking his still foggy brain.

“Let’s make this night a night of firsts then”. Your cold fingers intertwined with his, sending shivers down his spine, as you dragged him in the alley lit by rusty streetlamps.

The night was young and so were the both of you.

-----

You couldn’t fathom how the fuck you ended up in a dingy night club at 3:30 AM, the place you despised the most on earth, right after public toilets and hospitals. Yesterday, a check to your name with at least two zeros would have been necessary to convince you to join the wasted partiers. Today, a sweet smile and a couple more shots of vodka had been more than enough. The effect the boy you met just a few weeks ago had on you was much more important than you would have liked to admit. How far were you capable to go for him if he asked you to? There was something scary about this intense sentiment you never felt before.

Hyunjin had you dancing in the middle of a crowd of total strangers as if nobody was watching. You, the person who was self-aware of every single one of her moves, constantly imagining how she looked in the eyes of the people surrounding her. For the first time, you let yourself truly exhale. You didn’t realize how long you had been holding your breath for.

Your intoxicated blood was pumping in your veins to the rhythm of the music blasting in your ears. Your limbs were moving as they wished, as if they had a mind of their own. The ground, sticky after all the drinks that were spilled on it, seemed to be rippling under your feet. Your whole world was tilting to the right, and then to the left, like a seesaw. Each flash of light felt like an additional shot of adrenaline. Your head was spinning and your vision getting hazier by the minute, making your eyes unable to distinguish the mass of sweaty bodies in the dark. But no matter how dizzy you were, you could still see him clearly.

Like Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky, Hyunjin shone. In a tide of people, you only had eyes for him. His body was moving in the most entrancing way, swinging so effortlessly to the beat of early 2010 hits. You couldn’t help but stare at his glistening neck, his collar bones left uncovered by his white muscle tee, his defined biceps, his swaying hips. Every inch of him seemed to be the work of Apollon.

You knew people were admiring him but you did not care. How could you be mad at them for taking a glimpse of such a beautiful sight? Especially when his eyes were never leaving yours, making you wonder what you did in your past life to deserve even a second of his attention.

You did not know how many hours went by, watching him recreating the most ridiculous dance steps he could remember to make you giggle and listening to him butchering your favorite childhood songs. At some point, you joined him. You screamed at the top of your lungs approximative lyrics that faded into uncontrollable bursts of laugher as he would catch you in his arms, make you twirl around and lift you in the air.

As people were slowly leaving the club, you were coming down from your high. Hyunjin was holding you tighter and tighter, your chest crushed against his, not even an inch separating your bodies, as if he was scared you might vanish if he loosened up his embrace even just a little. You never were the affectionate type, too afraid getting closer to someone would only scare them away. Because this is how you’d normally react yourself. The proximity was terrifying, the intimacy even more. But being in Hyunjin’s arms just felt so right at this moment.

Suddenly, the music seemed to come from another room, so far away, muffled as if your head was underwater. You dared to remove your face from the crook of his neck. You were relieved when you saw his face. Relieved this was not just a dream, this was your present. You were both gasping for air, inhaling and exhaling at the same tempo.

Your fingertips found his right cheek, then grazed his cupid’s bow and finally touched his lower lip. They felt too rough against his plump mouth. No matter how hard you’d try, you would never be gentle enough for such delicate features, for such a pure soul, you thought. You would ruin him, destroy him, tear his heart apart. But then his hand wrapped around yours. He made you press your palm against his burning skin.

His deep brown eyes were screaming ‘You’re enough’. And for once you believed it.

-----

“There is one more thing I want to do tonight” Hyunjin told you.

The fresh breeze had replaced the smell of sweat and alcohol and all kinds of filthy things, as you exited the night club. The dew was already glistening on the blades of grass of the neighboring lawns, like thousands of diamonds. The dark sky, blurred by the morning mist, was just starting to lighten, turning shades of lilac and mauve. The sunrise would be soon, but the streetlights were still on, leading the way. The teenagers that were kicked out of the club looked lost and disoriented as if they had just regained consciousness after an endless dream, stumbling in the city streets at 6 in the morning on a Sunday.

Your makeup was smudged under your eyes, accentuating the dark shadows due to the lack of sleep. Your hair was a mess and your cheekbones red. Yet, the way you were looking at him, eyes sparkling with curiosity, made you look adorable.

“Which way is the ocean?” he asked you.

You cocked your eyebrow in confusion but pointed your thumb to your right anyways, giving up on guessing what he had in mind. He grabbed your hand, his fingers naturally intertwining with yours, and started to run in the direction you indicated, slaloming between the hangover teens.

Not once had he gone to see the ocean since he had arrived here. The loneliness had paralyzed him all this time. But now that you were by his sides, he had the strong urge to feel the sea spray on his face, the sand between his toes. To feel alive after all these days of numbness. And share this feeling with you.

He had to drag you for a few meters before you finally picked up the pace. The further you got away from the night club, the more the streets were deserted, the only living presences you encountered at this hour being stray cats searching for something to eat in the dumpsters.

“Wait” you faintly protested as you were already gasping for air after a few minutes of running.

“We have to hurry before the sun comes up” he told you, holding your hand a little tighter to give you some courage.

-----

When your Doc Martens finally sunk in the humid sand, your lungs were on fire and your heart was about to burst out of your ribcage. The slender boy did not let you catch your breath though. As you were bent in two, hands resting on your weakened knees and chest heaving, you saw Hyunjin taking off his shirt and his muscle tee out of the corner of your eye.

Taken aback by his sudden boldness, you stood back up abruptly. The way Hyunjin smirked at you made you realize you were staring a bit too obviously at his defined torso. You felt your face becoming even hotter when he pulled down his jean shorts. Once he threw his beat-up converse in the sand, only his blue boxers were left. Never in your life a boy’s behavior had made you this flustered.

As your brain was trying to register what was happening, your started to stutter foolishly. But Hyunjin did not leave you the time to ask what the hell he was doing, already sprinting to the ocean. In an instant, the crashing waves swallowed him whole. You tried to catch a glimpse of him, but the foam formed by the sea’s eddies were making it impossible for you to distinguish his figure.

You did not know what took over you, probably the same unknown feeling that pushed you to dance in a filthy club, but here you were undressing hastily on a deserted beach at dawn. You ignored the shivers that traveled down your spine and the goosebumps that were appearing on your legs as you took off your shorts. You kept your large t-shirt on, not brave enough to show your whole body to him. You knew your courage would falter if you took too long to enter the cold water, so you ran and dove, headfirst.

The water felt like liquid ice against your skin, wrapping every inch of you, hugging you dearly. Your whole body went numb. If it wasn’t your stinging cuticles that were raw from the constant biting of your nails, you would have forgotten you were even made out of flesh. Forgotten that your existence did not just consist of a tired soul floating around aimlessly in the limbo. At last, everything felt so serene and at peace.

Ever since you learned how to swim, you had always loved the ocean. The feeling it procured you was still unrivaled to this day. It was better than alcohol, better than drugs, better than sex. Underwater, everything would stop for a moment. Your heartbeat would start to slow down, to the point you weren’t sure you were still alive. Your eyes would cease to see, and your ears would cease to hear. The whole world would go quiet. Those minutes of nothingness were all you wished for. They left you craving for more. But as the years went by, the beach wasn’t the refuge it used to be anymore. It slowly became a place of deep insecurities and social obligations. You stopped going, always declining your friends’ invitations. Only now were you realizing how much you missed the ocean’s embrace.

When your lungs screamed in need of oxygen, you reluctantly swam back to the surface. The void the water left in your heart was immediately filled by Hyunjin’s smile.

“You’re crazy” you told him between two waves, your hands flailing around to keep your head over the troubled water. He beamed at you and you thought you could die happy right now, with the picture of his radiant face in mind.

You both let yourselves float on your backs, the water gently rocking you. The sun was peeking shyly on the horizon, like the flame of an old lighter, gradually turning the shades of blue and mauve into hues of orange and pink. You noticed the faint shadow of the moon, not wanting to leave just yet. Ribbons of golden clouds were now decorating the pale sky. The sea was no longer an abyss of dark blue, but now an infinite expanse of liquid gold, as the sun rays were dancing over its surface.

You were overwhelmed by such beauty, on the verge of tears. You weren’t sure if you had actually started crying or if your cheeks were just wet because of the ocean’s water. The memory of the last last time you watched the sunrise by the sea with your family came back. Your parents were still together at that time and your brother hadn’t left town to go study far away yet. Everything was so simple back then. You used to be so happy, so carefree, so eager. You thought you would never be able to feel this way ever again. You thought the best moments of your life were already behind you.

But Hyunjin proved you wrong. For the first time in years, you didn’t regret yesterday nor fear tomorrow. You didn’t think about the stupid shit you did at a party last year nor what you were going to do with your boring degree once you graduated. You didn’t wish time away, finally savoring the moment. You felt so alive by his side.

You didn’t know how long you were floating, watching silently the sky changing colors. Minutes, hours, months, years, an eternity had passed. When you finally got back on your feet, your fingers were all pruned. As you were about to get out of the water, Hyunjin grabbed your wrist. “There’s one last thing I want to do tonight” he told you.

“It’s not nighttime anymore,” you teased him.

But Hyunjin did not seem to be in the mood to joke around. The way he was staring at you so intensely made your chest ache in apprehension. He pulled gently on your wrist to bring you closer. So close you were able to see the droplets of water that clung onto his long eyelashes. The sunrise had turned his deep brown eyes into cognac-colored ones, shades of orange and amber tinting his irises. His tan skin was glowing, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was really a human or an otherworldly creature. Your breath hitched in your throat that had suddenly gone dry.

“Alright,” you said, in a voice that was quieter than you expected. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “But I swear to god, Hyunjin, if you ask me to jump off a cliff I - “

You were cut off by his plump lips, pressing softly against yours. Hyunjin kissed you tenderly, carefully, as if you were made of crystal. He tasted like salt and vodka, like holidays and sunshine. At this moment, you felt whole, complete. But he pulled away only seconds after, much to your dismay. His expectant eyes found yours. He seemed to be waiting for a response that would hopefully calm his nerves.

You wanted to scream ‘what were you waiting for all this time?’ but instead you just kissed him back, craving the feeling of his mouth on yours so badly. Your hands trailed up his shoulder and cupped his cheeks. The kiss grew more intense as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you harder against his damp skin. Heat bloomed in the pit of your stomach, spreading ineluctably to the rest of your body. Hyunjin’s prior hesitation was long gone. His lips moved urgently, kissing you so hard you would have probably lost your balance if he wasn’t holding you this tight.

Your fingers pulled on his hair tie to free his bleached strands. You were finally able to run your fingers through his wet hair. You had been dying to do so all evening. You couldn’t help but tug slightly at the rough ends. You thought your heartbeat couldn’t get any faster until a soft moan escaped his lips, sending you over the edge.

Your head was spinning endlessly. Your mind was monopolized by the thought of him. Every bit of your sanity was out the window. You loved his blond hair that was a little too long. You cherished his delicate nose. You adored his full lips. You treasured the beauty mark under his eye. You worshipped his whole being.

When it all became too much for your body to handle, you reluctantly broke the kiss. You were both panting, breathing the same air as his forehead stayed pressed against yours. His thumb was rubbing slowly against your jaw and you couldn’t help but lean into his soothing touch. He looked so glorious, his eyes half-closed, and his lips swollen, that if you had listened to the mischievous voice in your head you would have devoured him at that very moment. But Hyunjin noticed the goosebumps that had spread across your arms and the way you were shivering. He finally became aware of the freezing waves that kept crashing against your thighs.

“We should go dry off before we catch a cold” he said to you with the sweetest smile, before leading you out of the water, his hand never leaving yours.

Just now did you realize how bad of an idea it had been to swim with your shirt still on. It was clinging onto every inch of your body, the salt making it even more uncomfortable. There was no way it would be dry before several hours, especially with the sun this low on the horizon. Once Hyunjin reached the pile of clothes you left on the sand, he handed you his linen shirt awkwardly and turned around to let you change. You couldn’t help but giggle at his adorable gesture.

You made sure nobody was watching, undressed as quickly as your sticky t-shirt allowed you to and put his shirt on. It was soft against your skin and smelled like his cologne. Hyunjin had taken the opportunity of you turning your back on him to put his tee and shorts back on. You laughed when you realized that he went commando, his dripping boxers still in his hand.

He tried to distract you from his blushing face by letting himself fall to the ground. You joined him, with a loud sigh, stretching you out on the golden sand that had just started to warm up. It was the first time in 24 hours that you were lying down but your eyes wouldn’t close.

“I can’t believe you never asked what my name was and just waited around to know it” Hyunjin laughed, interrupting your daydream.

You rolled on your stomach and leaned on your elbow so that you could look at him. “You didn’t ask what mine was either!” you exclaimed, on the defensive. But his infectious laugh only ringed louder in your ears. “I was stressed out, okay?” you pouted.

“Did I make you flustered?” he smirked.

“Of course, you did!” you said like he had stated the obvious. “It’s not that often that a cute boy comes to the store every single day to buy freaking raspberry popsicles…”

“Maybe I didn’t only come to buy popsicles.”

“Oh really? I would have never thought,” you said ironically.

“Not gonna lie, I was kind of shocked that you finally talked to me” he said while his fingers tucked a piece of hair that was falling over your face behind your ear lovingly.

“Was I that scary?”

“Terrifying” he joked. You rolled your eyes and put his arm around you so that you could rest your head on his chest.

“Okay let’s start all over. Hi, my name is Y/N.” you said sticking out your hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you Y/N. My name is Hyunjin. Can we make out now?” he giggled, and you couldn’t help but hit him playfully.

You both grew silent as you admired the sky changing color. You snuggled your face in the crook of his neck, looking for his warmth. You wondered how he was always so warm, how he felt like pure sunshine. You thought you could spend your whole life here, just the two of you, laying on a beach at dawn, listening to his steady heartbeat, him playing with your wet hair. You would have wanted to catch this feeling in a bottle: happiness.

“Summer breaks aren’t so bad after all,” he whispered.

-----

Hyunjin’s shoulder had gone numb a long time ago but he didn’t dare to move, not wanting to disturb such a peaceful sight. You were sleeping, your mouth slightly agape, air coming in and out of it steadily. But when he felt like he would have to be amputated if he stayed like this one more second, he scooped up your head gently to put it on the sand. Unfortunately, your puffy eyes opened as soon as his skin wasn’t in contact with yours anymore, as if your body couldn’t bear to be separated from his.

“What time is it?” you asked groggily, trying to cover your face from the sun that was already a lot higher in the blue sky.

He took his phone out of his pocket, careful not to put any sand on it. “8:47” he said.

“I really gotta go”, you sighed. But you didn’t get up.

You looked so comfortable, laying there, hugged by the warm sand. Your whole body, which used to look lifeless, was now bathing in sunlight. White linen had never looked this good, he thought. The way his shirt was draping over your figure mesmerized him. Your delicate collarbones were peeking right above the collar. He noticed every freckle on your face, every mole on your body, every stretchmark on your hips, every hair on your arms and legs. He loved all of it. He had to repress the urge to caress your skin, too scared he might go crazy if he did.

You finally decided to move, much to Hyunjin’s dismay. You emptied your boots of all the sand that had found its way in them before putting them back on. Hyunjin had never seen someone struggle this much to tie up their laces before. You both managed to stand up, despite the exhaustion and the soreness.

“And I really need some Advil” you said, wincing in pain once you were on your feet. Your head must have been pounding, just like his, after this long night of partying.

“Piggyback ride?” he offered, and you smiled. He collected all your clothes before he let you jump onto his back. You had a hard time doing it, having no strength left in your legs, but after a few attempts and a fit of laughter, Hyunjin managed to hook his arms under your thighs. He took one last look at the turbulent ocean, in order to imprint this moment in his memory, before returning to the streets.

You acted like a GPS, indicating him the fastest way to get to the closest subway station. He had never seen a GPS be this confused though: you were changing your itinerary every two seconds and he was starting to wonder if you really knew were you were going. But the ways your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, your breath was caressing his cheeks and your hair was tickling his neck were totally making up for how exhausted he felt from carrying you for so long.

Once you finally reached the subway entrance after this long journey, he let you get down. Your hurtled down the stairs as you heard the loud screeching of the train getting closer.

As expected on a Sunday morning, the car was almost empty, so you easily found two seats. You let your head fall onto Hyunjin shoulder.

He couldn’t help but think about your previous ride. About how different it felt. About how world-weary you used to seem as you were staring out the window. It had only happened 12 hours earlier, but it seemed like eternity had passed since.

Sure, you still looked tired. But it was now a different kind of tiredness. The one that inevitably came after the excitement. The one you were trying so hard to fight not to miss any second of what the universe had planned for you. The one that was making you grin from ear to ear even though your eyelids were getting heavier. The one that meant you were still alive.

“I think this is my station,” you suddenly told him, interrupting his sweet reverie.

You got up in a hurry and as your body got away from his, Hyunjin felt like someone had ripped off a part of him. You grabbed your still dripping shirt with the tips of your fingers. You stood up before him for a second, your expression unreadable, before making your way to the already opening doors.

But just before you reached them, you stopped dead in your tracks as if you had forgotten something. You walked back to Hyunjin and leaned in to press a chaste kiss on his lips. A goodbye kiss that tasted so sweet. Your hand caressed his jaw soflty and he couldn’t help but notice how your skin was a little warmer than the usual.

The beeping of the doors startled the both of you. You rushed out just in time, giggling like a child. His heart broke a little when the doors closed behind you. You stayed on the platform while the train was leaving, waving your hand at Hyunjin. You looked like an angel in his white shirt that was fluttering in the wind, grinning candidly from ear to ear.

He did not know then it would be the last time he saw you.

You didn’t come to work on Monday and Hyunjin left for Seoul on Tuesday.

He didn’t know your number nor your address.

He didn’t even know your last name.

All the sudden, it seemed like you never existed. All he had left was the memory of you and surely this memory, one day, will become so old that Hyunjin himself will doubt of its reality, without any other witness to confirm it. He will probably think you were a creation of his lonely mind, a dream, a mirage.

Who will even believe him when he would tell his first love story?

But there was one thing he was sure of. He will never forget the look on your face.

Never forget how you finally seemed happy.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #hyunjin fic #hyunjin fluff #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #stray kids au #hyunjin au #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin scenario #kpop fanfic #i have literally no idea how youre supposed to tag your fics help

199 notes · View notes

milkybonya · 4 years

Text

awkward confession

Warnings: food mentions

Pairing: college senior!Jinhwan x shy (gender neutral) reader

Summary: over reading week, you invite Jinhwan to your home and as he looks around your childhood room, he stumbles across a journal of yours.

Word count: idk but i think it’s over 1k? it’s a longer one :o

[a/n]: after playing superstar yg, i’ve been feeling soft for Jinhwan? i know, even i’m surprised by the correlation LOL but enjoy this~

- prologue

You first met Jinhwan in your freshman year at a party, dragged there by your newfound friends who claimed that it would be fun, but you just wanted to go home.

After an hour, you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. Saying goodbye to your friends, you grabbed your jacket and stepped outside, clueless about how to get back to campus and to your dorm.

Opening google maps on your phone, you tapped your foot impatiently, waiting for it to load. Your phone was at 1%, but maybe if you could just get a glimpse-

It died.

Throwing it into your pocket, you sighed and stared up at the black sky.

“Heading home?” someone asked you.

You turned your head to the side and saw Jinhwan standing next to you, with his hands in the pockets of his jean jacket.

“Yeah, but my phone just died,” you said, pressing your lips together to contain your anger.

“Want me to drive you?” he asked, waving his car keys around. “My car is new but I’ve had my license for a long time, so no need to worry.”

You laughed at his comment and decided to accept the offer, since you knew he was your senior and you could trust him. The week before classes started, you had been told about a few of the seniors in your program at orientation, and Jinhwan had been one of them. Apparently, he was very kind and laid-back.

Before you entered his car, he formally introduced himself and you did the same. When you were inside, he passed you the aux cord but then stopped.

“Right! Your phone is dead. Here, take mine! Just search through Spotify and play whatever you like.”

“I’m not sure if you’ll like it, though..” you said, hesitating. Sharing your music with someone else was always a bit embarrassing for you.

“As long as it’s not Kids Bop, then I’m sure I won’t mind,” he said, starting to drive.

“What if I play death metal?” you said.

“Fine by me,” he said.

You found an artist that you liked and started playing their songs. Jinhwan smiled and nodded his head along to the beat, making you feel more comfortable.

“Oh, you might as well save your number in there while you’re at it, or save my number. If you ever need help with anything, you can contact me!”

You added yourself to his contacts and sent yourself a message from his phone so you would also have his number. In his phone, you saved your name as ‘[y/n] :)’.

“Which dorm are you in?” he asked.

“The one behind the library,” you said.

“Ah, that’s the worst spot. Hey, we actually have a free spot in our student home if you ever want to join us. Although I don’t want to make you live with your scary seniors if it makes you uncomfortable,” Jinhwan said, jokingly.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“It wouldn’t be intruding, don’t worry! But just do whatever is most comfortable for you. You can always crash at our place when you get tired of your dorm.”

As you passed an ice cream shop that was near campus, you found yourself sighing. Some late night ice cream would really hit the spot right now...

When Jinhwan asked why you were sighing, you confided your thoughts and without any hesitation, he turned the car around and stopped right in front of the ice cream place.

“I’ll get you whatever you like, my treat!” he said, hopping out.

When you chose the ice cream you wanted, Jinhwan also chose one for himself and paid for both of you. You grabbed a seat by the window right next to the glass door. There was arcade music echoing throughout the tiny place, since there were a few arcade machines behind you.

“This is so good!” you said, eating your ice cream.

“Have you never been here before?” Jinhwan asked you, smiling. This whole time he had not stopped smiling at you, and it made you feel warm inside.

“I’ve always wanted to, but this first month of classes has been super stressful.”

“I hear you, but it’s important to take breaks! If you’re ever stressed, you can let me know and we can come back here,” he said.

Jinhwan had been nothing but unusually nice to you, but you didn’t think much of it. A lot of the seniors were nice to the freshman and juniors anyway.

After you finished your ice cream, Jinhwan dropped you off at your dorm. Even though he watched you walk in, he still texted you right as you reached your room.

hello ‘[y/n] :)’ did you get in safely?

yes, thank u! you literally watched me walk in lol

that’s right, but who knows what can happen on your way to your room from the front doors of the dorm

i appreciate you :)

do you like smiley faces? u even saved ur name as ‘[y/n] :)’

ah, i guess i do like them ><

that’s cute~

Your heart fluttered seeing this message, and you had to take a few deep breaths to calm down. He’s just my senior, you told yourself. He’s just being nice.

A few days later, you saw Jinhwan in the library, studying. You thought that you should say hello out of courtesy, but you didn’t want to bother him, so you continued to walk along the shelves in search of the book you needed.

Getting distracted, you ended up with five big textbooks in your arms. You couldn’t help it, they were all so interesting...

Trying to reach for a book while your hands were still full, suddenly everything fell. The sound of the books falling to the ground echoed throughout the library, and you apologized under your breath as you struggled to pick everything up. You felt so embarrassed that you wanted to disappear.

Looking up amidst your struggle, you saw Jinhwan looking at you from his spot. When he recognized you, he immediately rushed over.

Did this happen to me because I didn’t say hi to him, you thought. Is this karma?

“[y/n], it’s you? Are you okay? Let me help you,” he said, taking some of the books from your arms.

“These are really heavy, you should get a cart for them.” Jinhwan moved his head around to search for one.

“No, it’s fine! I grabbed too many anyway! I’ll just put them back-” you said, not wanting to bother Jinhwan anymore. But he firmly held onto your books until he found a cart.

“I know where some better books on this topic are. Do you want me to show them to you?” Jinhwan asked you, placing the books on the cart.

“No, really, it’s fine! You’re busy studying-”

“I need a break anyway~” he quietly sang, walking towards the spot that he told you about. Forced to follow him, you trailed along. He had a skip in his step, and it made you smile.

“I’m really sorry, I know midterms must be starting for you-”

He stopped and turned around.

“[y/n], it’s really fine! I wouldn’t help you if I didn’t want to,” he said.

After he showed you the books that he was talking about, he invited you to join him at his spot to study.

“Ah, right! You treated me for ice cream last time. Do you want anything to drink? I can buy you something!” you said.

Jinhwan chuckled.

“There’s no need for that! I already have a coffee here,” he said, pointing to the coffee next to him.

“What about a muffin! A cookie?” you asked.

He laughed, again.

“Okay, you can get me something if you really want to. But the muffins here are terrible, so go for a cookie instead!” he told you.

When you returned with some chocolate chip cookies, he took them from you with a wink. He let you have some too, claiming that you needed fuel to study.

While you were deep into one of the books you were reading and taking notes on a sticky note, you finally looked down to write something and found a smiley face on the corner of your sticky note. Not remembering drawing that, you looked up at Jinhwan, but he was also busy studying. It had to be him, you thought.

You picked up your pen and finding a free spot in the margin of his notebook, doodled a fox carefully.

A few minutes after you returned to your own work, he asked, “well I wonder where this fox came from?”

“Well I wonder where this smiley face came from?” you asked him, pointing to the smiley face on your sticky note. The two of you laughed quietly.

Some time after that, your roommate declared that they wanted to start getting fit.

“You’re literally saying that as you’re finishing a whole tub of ice cream,” you said, laughing.

Your roommate dropped the tub and stood up with their fist raised.

“We are going to the gym, right now!”

With no escape, you followed your friend to the campus gym and signed up for a membership. As you were doing so, you heard a familiar voice.

“I don’t want to! Why do we all have to sign up? This is so annoying.”

Jinhwan?

As you turned around, your suspicions were confirmed. He was being pushed by his roommates, your other program seniors, towards the front desk which you were stood at, and he was whining loudly like a baby.

“Oh, it’s [y/n]!” one of the seniors, named Junhoe, who was pushing him said. Upon hearing your name, Jinhwan stood up straight and laughed awkwardly, waving hello.

“[y/n], we all promised we would sign up for the gym since our program’s marathon is coming up and this fool,” Hanbin, another senior, said while pointing to Jinhwan, “signed us up for it. But now he doesn’t want to work out with us!”

You laughed. How cute, you thought.

Jinhwan stood there, scratching the back of his head.

“Actually, my roommate is making me sign up, too. So I guess we’re in the same boat!”

“See, if [y/n] can do it then so can you!” Bobby, another senior, said.

With both of you being forced to sign up, you made your way into the gym. Your roommate dragged you aside for a second.

“Who’s Jinhwan and how do you know him and-”

“He’s my senior,” you said, cutting your roommate off before they asked too many questions.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Your roommate analyzed your face.

“Are you sure?” they asked, narrowing their eyes.

“Yes!” you screamed. Jinhwan and his friends all looked at you and you pressed your lips together out of embarrassment.

“Look what you made me do!” you said to your roommate, who was walking ahead while laughing loudly.

When the marathon that only the upper years were supposed to participate in finally rolled around, you stood at the finish line, handing out water to everyone who finished. The marathon was to raise money for your program, since it was not funded so well.

You cheered all of your seniors on under the hot sun, fanning yourself to try to cool down. I could just... take one water bottle... no! It’s for the seniors and we don’t have enough!

As you struggled to decide between drinking one of the waters secretly or leaving them for your seniors, a sweaty Jinhwan finally crossed the finish line.

He looked extremely tired, so you grabbed a bottle of water and a towel before running up to him.

“You did it! Good job!” you said, handing him the supplies that you had grabbed.

He was bent over with his hands on his knees, but straightened up to take the water from your hands. But he hesitated before handing it back to you.

“It’s fine, you should drink it,” he panted. He reached for a hat that he had managed to tie to his waist, and handed that to you, too.

“You should wear a hat in this weather! Be careful,” he said, placing the cap on your head before walking away. Confused, you trailed back to the water station that you were stood at.

“Didn’t he give you the water? Drink it then! And give me some too!” your friend, who was also manning the water station with you, said.

You watched Jinhwan as he lay sprawled out in the grass.

This won’t do.

Handing the bottle to your friend, you ran towards the closest building in search of a vending machine. Finding one, you bought a water and ran back to hand it to Jinhwan, who was still sprawled out in the grass.

Panting, you crashed on the grass next to him and handed him the bottle. He sat up, eyeing it,

“But I just gave my water to you-”

“Drink it!” you said breathlessly before lying down in the grass next to him.

You heard him taking big gulps before he also laid down next to you and right then in that moment, you asked yourself why you ran for ten minutes just to buy bottled water for Jinhwan.

When you looked up at him and watched the sun light up his face, showing his skin sticky with sweat and his hair a mess, you felt like something was welling up inside you.

You liked Jinhwan.

During finals week, you vowed that you were going to sit in the same library cubicle for the entire week to study. No leaving. No getting distracted. You would only leave to use the washroom, wash your face, take a shower, eat or brush your teeth. Otherwise, you were sleeping in there.

Intense, but you needed to do what you had to do to study.

Your exams were later than everyone else’s, so while everyone else was enjoying their Winter break, you were still studying.

Thud.

You looked up after you had buried your head in your books to find your favourite vending machine drink sitting next to your laptop. Confused and wondering if this was a hallucination, you looked around for who might have left it there.

“Boo!” Jinhwan said from the cubicle next to you.

You jumped up in fright, yelling at him for scaring you.

Then you got scolded by a librarian and Jinhwan laughed.

“Seriously, I’m doing some major studying right now! No distractions!” you told Jinhwan.

“Is that your way of saying thanks?”

“Thank you,” you groaned.

“You’re really something. I’ve never studied this hard for my exams,” Jinhwan said.

“Well that’s your problem, not mine!” you said, sticking out your tongue at him.

Since your first encounter, you had been seeing Jinhwan more often around campus and felt a lot more comfortable around him.

“What? Is that how you treat your senior?” Jinhwan joked. “Anyway, I’m here to wish you good luck! And remind you to take breaks. Speaking of which, do you wanna go grab ice cream? Go for a walk?”

“Go for a walk? Am I your dog?” you scoffed.

Jinhwan sighed.

“You know what I mean!”

You ended up leaving your cubicle for an hour to walk through campus with Jinhwan. The night air was cold but refreshing, and there was something calming about the empty campus with the few streetlights lighting the way. You almost tripped and fell onto Jinhwan a few times because it was so dark, but each time he caught you and giggled softly in a way that made you want to squeal because he was so. damn. cute.

A year later

“IT’S READING WEEK!” your roommate yelled as they packed their suit case.

“Yay,” you said, quietly.

“Yay? We’re going home! What is this sad reaction?”

“Going home means a week without Jinhwan...”

Your roommate groaned.

“Are you kidding me? You went a whole summer break without him, what is this?

“Yeah, and it was terrible!” you said.

“You two need to stop beating around the bush and start dating already.”

“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?” you yelled.

“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? It’s been two years of you liking each other! Just kiss, jeez!”

“This is a sad unrequited love and you cannot convince me otherwise.”

“[y/n]... I’m not even gonna bother. I’m done. I’m not gonna say anything!” your roommate said, walking to the bathroom.

Two seconds later, they walked back in.

“DO YOU NOT SEE the way this man looks at you? He’s always so nice to you and for what? You’re not a freshman anymore!”

“We’re friends!”

“This is pathetic! I’m gonna have to get the ball rolling myself,” your friend said, grabbing your phone.

Their grip was too strong, so you only got a hold of your phone after they let go. Your messages app was open. Your chat with Jinhwan was open. Oh no.

Jinhwan! do u want to stay at my house for reading week? :)

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” you yelled, throwing a pillow at your roommate who laughed in response.

“I’m doing God’s work!”

Your phone vibrated and your heart raced.

really? i’d love to! my family wanted me to help out with home renovations T.T and i’d rather spend reading week with u~

“He agreed,” you said, surprised. “HE AGREED!”

“And this is my house,” you said, opening the door and letting Jinhwan enter first.

“Woah,” he said, looking around.

“There isn’t much, really...”

“I wanna see your room,” Jinhwan said, kicking off his shoes and immediately walking upstairs.

“Wait!” you said, running after him.

“I can really tell which one is yours,” he said, chuckling as he found your room.

As he looked around, you felt super embarrassed, so you told him that you would be downstairs unpacking.

A few minutes later, Jinhwan walked up to you downstairs, holding something in his hand. His face was red and there was a smile on his face.

“[y/n], please explain this,” he said, handing you what he was holding.

It was your journal.

And it was opened to a page where you had written about your feeling for Jinhwan.

You had forgotten all about this.

Oh no.

You had written all about your first encounter and the late night ice cream, the time he helped you find books at the library, the time you awkwardly met at the gym, the time you ran for 10 minutes just to buy water for him from a vending machine and how you realized your feelings for him then, and the time he came to visit while you were studying.

The last sentence was: He’s literally the most perfect human alive and honestly I’m so glad I’ve even met him; I like him a lot.

When you finished reading it, you closed it and walked away from where you had been standing in the living room to the kitchen, trying to process everything.

With your back turned, you said, “Jinhwan, just forget you ever read that, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Let’s just be friends still, okay? Please just forget about that...”

You were close to crying with how embarrassed you felt. You didn’t want your friendship to be ruined because of this.

“Are you sure you want me to forget about it?” Jinhwan asked you.

“Yes, please.”

“Even when I feel the same way?”

Now there was something that you did not expect. You could not have predicted this.

“What?” you asked, turning around to face him out of shock.

“I like you too, [y/n]. Do you want to forget about it?” he said, smiling the same smile he did on that first day when you were eating ice cream together at midnight.

“No, I... need time to process this...”

“Am I allowed to hug you, though?” Jinhwan asked, opening his arms. When you nodded, he moved towards you and wrapped his arms around you, placing his head into your shoulder. It was a hug that was so full of love, you felt like you were melting on the spot.

“You know I did all of those things because I like you, right? Helping you at the library and checking on you when you studied.. I didn’t know at the time, but I found out later... that I like you.”

86 notes · View notes

pwapuri · 4 years

Text

Gintsu week day 7: meant to be

It was another dawn in Edo. The katoken program had already passed and they were showing the session of the films that nobody wants to see. Gintoki woke up in a jump dreaming again about some things from the past...When he bet with Takasugi that he could find the watermelon smelling the candy, he can still hear Zura's voice in his head saying it was a bad idea. Although younger Zura was always the most prudent and pleaded with Gintoki and Takasugi to stop getting in trouble without the sensei seeing them. That was when in the dream things got mixed up and Gintoki heard kagura taking Takasugi's place encouraging him to jump off the cliff while Shinpachi cut the watermelon and said the joke was over and the years had passed. An old man with responsibilities shouldn't do these things. It was true.

Upon seeing the friends of past and present, with the ghost of time on top of everyone gintoki woke up with kagura mumbling sleep and Shinpachi without the cover that fell off the sofa. The three had fallen asleep while the katoken program.

-Hey. Go to bed ... Do you all want to get a cold or...

He looked at the two young lying on the couch without concern. How long had it been like this?

At the age that Kagura now had, gintoki had lost Shouyo to the tendoushuu and at the age of Shinpachi he had already killed so many amantos and government officials that he had stopped worrying.

That was all he had now. It was more than he could ever imagine to have. When Otose found him and took him home, Gintoki went through the front door of what is now Yorozuya and thought that how big the space was, even that the space was just three times bigger than the prison cell. There was nothing, no furniture or equipment. He thought about how he would do business being who he was, without a title or master. But as soon as began to know the neighborhood and become friends with people and so they started to trust in his services, It wasn't long before he found these two idiots who started to follow him. That room now looked tiny. Even though Shinpachi sometimes looked at him with contempt and even though he never managed to pay the month, making them be shamed. When they looked at him with admiration, when they asked for help or advice, everything was worth it. He never thought of it as a family because it is dangerous ... as companions it might be cowardly because he knew it was more. But he liked to think that this was another one of those feelings to which no name is given.

And out of all the people he met, almost all had the same title for him ... maybe not as strong as those two little pests who lived with him and whom he paid full attention to ...

All the idiots who gathered around him made him feel that way, indescribable.

As the day came he was thinking about his own life. Those kids weren't going to stay there forever ... nothing is eternal. But where the hell had space for a normal life? Staying here and there with a woman under his arm like the gorilla couple he knew? Or Zura and ikumatsu? No ... none of that seemed natural. Just imagining it made him shiver. The only situation in which he thought to walk around having a normal life was with Ketsuno Ana because he was going to show her off to the world ... after all, it was Ketsuno Ana. But of course it wouldn't be so good in reality after all, He didn't want to burn his wings getting too close to the sun ...and speaking of sun, what time was that?

Looking at the clock, he saw that there were six. He remembered tsukuyo's schedule by chance ... always by chance.

'Believe me, this is the time when I come home.'

After asking what time the hell she stopped working, that's what she answered. He marked her words because it was hard to believe that there were people who enjoyed working so much

He started thinking about things three years ago ... about the woman who had a destiny similar to him. She killed the master herself to protect someone else. What irritated him was perhaps because she was so different from him ... working and working instead of enjoying the life that the master gave her. After thinking so much he understands, her life and his are the same. The difference is that to forget, or rather, to remember that she is alive, she works.

The two were so similar and yet so different. Damn thought that bothered him. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't she make herself more of an idiot? Why it had to be so independent and beautiful? Beautiful ... a soul so pure and clean. Ah, that was a perfect attribute to keep him interested. But in the end it was impossible to keep something with that woman using just that ... he didn't worth it for her. He was weak and coward, afraid to lose those two lying on the couch, afraid of losing the friendship of others and was afraid of losing the life he won after losing everything two times. Starting over was tiring, new house, new goals, all of this is scary. It was already difficult to keep the feelings in place with those people around him. Imagine new sensations and the worst, new obligations.

But among those moments of fear, he wanted to throw everything up when he remembered that she liked him. She liked it enough to understand that he wasn't hers, who the hell gives up what loves to make someone else happy? What was her problem? Cowardice or courage? But after all, he didn't have the right to speak ...was he's fault to make that so clear , oh look! He thought, we are the same after all.

-maybe today she changes her mind and decides to say she loves me?

It would never happen. Otae and kyuubei were the first to say what he already knew. He was the one who must say he loved her or not. But he couldn't. First because he wasn't going to destroy her heart saying he didn't love her and secondly because he didn't like lying. It was not easy as with Sachan, that is a good woman (in many ways) but dosent work with him. Worse, she knew it and continued to insist.

Tsukuyo no, it was her and that damned hope... so he had to scream that she shouldn't have hope for a no future like him, but scream what she already knew?

Call to tell that you love her and can't live without the smell of lavender and cigarettes. That she's perfect for you in every detail. That she completes you.

Damn ... she knows. And yet she continues to look with those eyes. Eyes full of love and concern, even with a hard mouth to give cruel answers. Maybe he should call and say it. Call now!

Call and tell her to forget you, not to show up! That you can't love her and she needs to move on

What a mess...

What kind of feeling is that? As he thought again, it had no name, no shape. Where does he get these thoughts from?

Finally he picked up the phone and dialed. he thought of the bullshit he was doing on the first touch. Twisting the telephone cord sitting on the chair in the office, he began to murmur: 'Kestuno Ana I'm not cheating on you', 'believe me she's just a friend', 'this thing in my chest isn't what you thinking', 'I haven't seen her for months, I haven't spoken to her ... I'm the crooked savior of her home, I need to see how things are going', 'it doesn't mean betrayal, right?'

Four rings and no one answered. 'ah I knew ... she must have slept it, in fact it was what I should do too'

-Hello?

Everything went white. For a moment he forgot how to answer a phone. he heard the serious voice of the guardian of yoshiwara

-ham ... it's me. Is everything okay out there?

-gintoki is that you?

-Of course, did you think it was the joestar jotaro or something?

-Is this time to call? Have you looked at your watch? When was the last time you woke up so early in life?

What a regret.

-I thought something had happened, you ungrateful bitch

-What the hell would have happened that I couldn't have called the next day ?! You goddamned hollow head!

-My phone rang and I'm just checking, your stupid! -Said gintoki

All lies, the most poorly told. And she knew, again, she knew. She couldn't even hide the excitement of hearing after a night of patrol the voice of the man she loved most in the world.

-Well, it wasn't me... but I thank you for your concern. But there's nothing here that I can't handle. Unless a new yato king appears I don't need your services

-you are really stupid and boring! You will die unmarried! Damn time I called

-grumpy! Damn time I answered!

After a few seconds of silence gintoki was preparing to hang up when tsukuyo interrupted:

-but is everything really okay? Kagura and Shinpachi, are you all okay?

That was what destroyed him. She was like that, tough and sweet ... not much different from the others but something in her gentle way to say those things, how does she do that?

-yea. All right

-How about you? Is everything really okay?

Tsukuyo was never able to disguise it, she wanted to receive that call so much that it seemed like a dream. She was so happy to see that Gintoki remembered the time when she came home ... even though were it by chance. She thanked the universe and begged the man to continue the conversation

-Well, I had a weird dream ...

From that point on, the conversation lasted until the sun started to heat everything up again, until just before Shinpachi opened his eyes and saw the phone off the hook while gintoki slept on the desk. The desperation for the high bill made him yell at Gintoki and force him showering and getting ready, it was too late and they had promised to fix a roof at 11. Gintoki complained but was completely happy to have talked to tsukuyo. The two fell asleep hanging from the phone and it made them feel young again, as if for a moment everything was possible.

After all, that's what they were. The relationship between Gintoki and Tsukuyo might never leave the paper, there would never be room for a normal life ... but what was normal for them anyway? So it was enough. This enormous feeling of joy filled and satisfied him. They never meant to be something because they were already everything for each other.

....

-Tsukuyo, Thank you for love me

-Thank you for letting me love you

__________

This was the most difficult prompt for me, I don't know why...I've tryed everything...edits, fanarts, comic. None of this managed to transmit my feels abou it. I'll make some fanart for the long prompt but, thats it!

#gintama #gintsuweek #gintsuweek 2021 #Tsukuyo #gintsu #gintoki #fanfic #otp

38 notes · View notes

ubemango · 4 years

Text

commission 4: slow burn/best friends/college au w/ jin

(+or: we’re best friends and you’re literally So Great and i suck at knowing what i want but anyway i’m starting to think i like you ??????? au)

note 1: For my very very sweet and understanding friend @yeuj who helped me out when I needed it most .... I hope you enjoy 🥺🥺💕!!!!!! And thank you to Micah + Clove for helping me with my questions—thank you for your thoughtfulness, insight, and love!!!!! 🌷🌷🌷

note 2: I tried to make ramen-making as unboring as possible but it really is just....water and spice. If you’re confused about eating ramen at convenience stores please search that up on Youtube, I’ve exhausted my link resource skills (except for when I want you to listen to songs.) Also, the songs I mention are titanic/the end by cehryl and Subside by Eloise. I actually listened to Sweet Night on repeat while writing this so if u wanna listen to that... ;_;

note 3: everything about this story is in medias res. I realized I had no proper beginning or conclusion and I didn’t wanna change the flow of the story by concretely adding one or the other... so if the story feels incomplete/fragmented then please understand that this was a conscious and intentional decision done on my part :,) It’s slow burn!!!! I Love you ha ha!!

(i)

The library is open twenty four hours. The convenience store in the student centre is not.

“Please use your car,” you assert.

Seokjin huffs. “Then pay for my gas.”

It’s an empty threat. He’s got no business driving hard bargains when he has capital in the form of a rich CEO dad. He ignores your glaring, calmly closing his laptop, shoving it into his bag. Closing up shop after a derivative crisis you’d called him up for because he lives on campus, plus he never sleeps early. You appreciate that he gives into you so easily.

“Fine.”

So you go, searching for a convenience store that has those instant noodles you suddenly came up with a craving for this late at night. Seokjin’s used to it by now. You get things done when you want to, even if it means making a home of the pillowy chairs in the library you’d claimed for studying purposes.

The mathematical theory of chaos. You don’t want to think about it, and you click your seatbelt with a yell, throw your bag in the backseat with as much strength your anger allows for. “I hate school!”

“Please don’t scream in the car.”

“I hate it!”

Seokjin slots the key in. “Can you look up where the convenience store is?”

He tosses you his phone to unlock. You jab at the screen with more grumbling and colourful cursing, pulling up whatever Google Maps says is the nearest store open.

“Plug in the AUX cord,” Seokjin urges next. He merges into traffic, which is really only one car and the late night bus. A quiet night for your suffering.

“Can I play my—“

“Nope.” You sneer. Tapping open his playlists, you pass under orange lamp post after orange lamp post and scroll in silence before Seokjin groans. “I made a new playlist, pick that one.”

“What’s it called?”

You can see that he’s stiffened up. You don’t comment. “The one with the three heart emojis.”

Simple enough. You don’t care to sift through the songs, and the first one plays with one more indulgent tap of the screen.

Why don’t you tell her? I think you should. You know how you’re feeling, you can’t fight the truth…

Google interrupts the soft voice with the indication of the next right. Seokjin eases on the gas pedal. You watch him nod his head to the softness of the stereo. “I can’t pay for your gas.”

“I know you can’t.”

“I can pay for your ramen,” you suggest. Seokjin makes a quiet noise, like he’s amused by your generosity, or maybe he just thinks you’re dumb. You think it’s the latter.

“I don’t want you to pay for my ramen.”

“Then what do you want?”

The lamp post light striking Seokjin’s face gives way to the harsh red of the stoplight. In the stillness, he sends you a hard look. It makes you feel weirdly vulnerable, like he’s stripped you bare.

To make things worse, Seokjin says:

“Nothing you don’t want to give me.”

He doesn’t heed your confusion because he presses on the gas, looks straight ahead. You do too, and you try not to contemplate the cool brevity of his attention you suddenly want back. You push your uncertainty aside.

(He has a handsome face, you think.)

Seokjin interrupts, “So why’d you wait till now to study?”

“You know me.” Procrastination. The complete and utter mistake of underestimating the allotted time needed to get a successful grasp of concepts for your midterm. In not so convoluted terms, this class sucks ass.

“Yeah but that was—a lot of notes.”

It was. You probably pushed five weeks of material in the span of three hours. You can feel the very tips of your nervous system frying up as you pass through gas station-lit intersections. But there’s a real answer to his question, and you have the intense need to curl in on yourself in this leather seat.

“Well I would have started yesterday, but I was busy,” you counter.

“With what?”

“So you know Hyukjae from Psych?”

Seokjin pauses to listen to Google’s instructions, and immediately makes a left onto another main intersection. “Sure.”

“We went out yesterday,” you admit.

He hums a tight sound, tapping on the wheel. “Hm. How’d it go?”

It wasn’t bad. You shared butter tarts and laughed at his anecdotes and Hyukjae-from-Psych paid for your Uber home. He gave you a very weak hug before you slipped into the car. It was in that seat you’d decided you wouldn’t be sending him an I had fun! text that night.

“It was okay. Like, nice to me and stuff. But nothing…”

“…Worth revisiting.”

“Sure,” you mimic, and you wonder why he’s right.

“The guy’s okay,” he says. Almost like it’s with relief. “It’s—not to sound rude, but. Uh. I think it’s, uh—good. That you weren’t… interested.”

You think he’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why?”

“Can’t trust guys with bad handshakes.” Seokjin chances a glance at you, and laughs at the confused scrunch of your eyebrows. “I met him during that networking conference in third year. Limp-wristed me. Like a chump.”

“Ew.” You can’t say he’s wrong. That hug Hyukjae gave you really was weak. The dude has noodles for arms. “But yeah, I guess you’re right. Wasn’t really my type.”

“Hm,” is all Seokjin comes up with. You watch him pass right through the turn Google tells him to take. “Oh shit. Sorry. I’m just. Thinking. About… limp… men.”

You snort. “What?”

“Like a man. A limp man. Hyukjae. Not me,” he clarifies fast—proudly— “just. Anyway! Back to you saying what your type was.”

“I wasn’t,” you accuse.

“Yeah well now I’m asking because I don’t wanna think about limp men. Your type, please.”

He sounds weirdly inquisitive. Demanding, almost. You chalk it up to the near-delirium of being awake past 1AM.

“I—don’t know,” you start. Somehow you feel like you’re messing something up. “He was kind, I like… kind. And soft. Sweet. You know Kim Taehyung? From Neuro? Like, almost big shoulders but not really. I like big shoulders. Yeah. Guys like Kim Taehyung-ish.”

Seokjin just hums again. There’s another song playing, and you don’t know how many you’ve rotated through in this playlist. You didn’t think it’d take this long to get to the store.

Google says it’s just two minutes away now. Seokjin says, “Cool,” and then sings along to the stereo.

You got me losing sleep over you… I usually sit still but now I can’t help but move… When I see you, I don’t know what to do…

(ii)

“Spicy or not spicy?”

“Whatever keeps my stomach lining intact,” Seokjin says.

You don’t say anything more and grab two of whatever ramen packaging isn’t scarily red. The convenience store is void of any customers, and the cashier rings you up with a very sour face for interrupting the show he’s got playing on his phone. His face shrivels up even more because all you can pay with is coins. Seokjin laughs behind you when you apologize for clattering the dimes too harshly on the counter.

“Enjoy,” the cashier announces, and he doesn’t mean it one bit.

The hot water machine at the back is a very intimidating thing next to the tiny display of cookies. Too many buttons and knobs you don’t understand, so Seokjin takes on the chivalric role and prepares everything for you. He rips the plastic open with gentle hands. Dumps the powder with too much conviction.

You both watch the water stream hot into the noodles. “Do you like macadamia nuts in your cookies?”

“I guess,” you say.

“Wanna split a cookie?” He hands you chopsticks to stir the ramen with, gestures at the cookie display with a jut of his chin.

“Are you paying?”

“Can you imagine if I made you pay after I asked to split,” Seokjin spits at you. “Yes I’m paying.”

“Then I want chocolate chip.”

He freezes, then jabs smartly at his noodles for a tense ten seconds.

“You make me mad,” he finally answers. “Should we eat in the car?”

“The bowl is too hot to hold.”

The counter at the window it is. You’re sad that you didn’t buy pickled radish, but your coin purse has weeped all its coinage out. Seokjin leaves you as Noodle Guard, going off to pay for that bonus cookie with a crumpled five. In the next second you contemplate the evaporation of ramen soup, the cookie is duly dumped right next to you, and Seokjin takes a huge bite of what still appears to be extremely hot noodles.

He promptly chokes, and makes sputtering noises.

“Holy shit,” Seokjin cries.

You take a much, much slower bite. “You’ll be fine.”

“I thought I could be cool for you,” he cries some more.

“You don’t need to be cool for me. Who eats ramen in a cool way?”

Seokjin nods his approval, that tear of theatrics sliding down his cheekbone. He eats carefully. A noisy car roils on outside, and passes quickly outside your periphery.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you remember to say.

“I love standing at counters and eating things hot,” Seokjin retorts. He dodges the fist you aim at his abdomen with swift ease. “It’s no problem.”

“I—“ You don’t really know why but you need to talk. “You know—you’re really, um, kind.”

Foolery. Absolute foolery that sentence was, and the cashier probably heard that foolery, and Seokjin definitely heard that absolute foolery, and he’s laughing. Like really laughing, caught with the noodles dangling from in-between his teeth. That’s all you had to say? The guy drove you out to get cup noodles out of his own volition. That’s kindness maxed out, and he deserves better than you fumbling between your teeth. Your nerves have fried up so bad, you guess.

Seokjin’s giggles dwindle down. “Thanks,” he says, smiling small.

You blame the heat of your cheeks from the heat of your soup.

Neither of you are desperate to get to that last quarter of noodles to broth ratio. The knots of your shoulders loosen with the sound of your slurping combined, and silently you are reminded of Seokjin’s warmth, standing so close to you.

The easiest path to a nice ending involves a happy belly and Seokjin driving you home with nothing more than a goodbye and a thank-you as you slam the car door shut. This is not unknown to you, because you and Hyukjae-from-Psych took that easy path yesterday.

You just don’t do this often, contemplating all the routes of romance. When is it appropriate to laugh at a joke, to wipe your mouth on the napkin? To smile and peel at your heart and grant that person access to all your inner workings? You belatedly notice that Seokjin did not bring napkins.

(The moment in the car—nothing you don’t want to give me—you want to laugh at his jokes, and smile, peel and peel and peel at your heart, but slowly. Slowly, you put your chopsticks down.)

How funny it is to come to very sound conclusions within a split second, because all you know is that it feels good, being with him like this.

Seokjin, in your quiet realization, takes it upon himself to decide the cookie-eating rights.

“Want the first bite?” He asks, propping the chopsticks horizontally on his bowl.

You nod. Desperately you try not to look at him because you might make more realizations, and you don’t think you’re ready for any more unleashed and unknown emotions. “Please.”

He gives it to you. The right side decidedly has more chocolate chips, and it’s a very nice explosion on your tongue. So nice you groan into it. “Oh that’s really good.”

He snatches the cookie away before you can take another bite. “I get bigger bites because I paid for it.”

“That—? Uh, that’s not how sharing works.”

“Yes it does,” Seokjin argues. But he just takes as normal a bite as ever. You can’t say you don’t focus on his mouth for too long, though—

—And you immediately seize up at the thought. Horrified, you shriek: “Actually just—have the rest of it!”

He looks alarmed. “O…kay?”

“You’ve got a nice mouth,” you blurt out next.

An absolutely awful feeling settles heavy in your stomach. Because almost immediately you realize that this is a kind and soft boy with nice anecdotes that have yet to be uncovered this night (he likes telling you stories) and he’s got wider shoulders than Kim Taehyung and you’re not sharing butter tarts but you’re sharing a cookie with him.

Another realization: does Seokjin have limp arms?

He puts the cookie down. (His arm looks very strong, doing that.) “I—thanks?”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” you note.

He watches you slump over the counter. Purposefully burying your face in your elbows to muffle your betraying mouth. “It’s late,” is all he says.

“Did that make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.” You don’t think you’re breathing. Your lungs have evaporated, like those steamy ramen noodles you just ate. Seokjin probably notices you’ve stopped moving, so he says, “Really.”

“Okay.”

“Did it—did it make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” you say.

“Cool. Do you wanna go—“

You stand up straight, grab all your garbage before he finishes. You don’t look at him. “Yep, yep, please.”

(iii)

He puts the key in the ignition, and doesn’t budge.

“Somehow I feel like you wanna say something else,” Seokjin says.

You curl your hands into fists. “It’s late.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” You are acutely aware of how garbled you must sound. It’s starting to get on your nerves, how flimsy you’re being. “I’m not… thinking.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re being pretty articulate for someone with an empty brain.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seokjin sighs.

The seat squeaks where you tense up. “I don’t want to think about your mouth.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” You nod. Jesus. You’ll just let him do the talking from now on because your tongue can’t be trusted this early in delirium, late in the hour. “I—I…”

Seokjin struggles some more, then deflates. He starts laughing.

“I… don’t drive just anyone out to convenience stores at two in the morning for ramen. You have to know that.” He clears his throat. His eyes are shiny with the harsh glare of neon signs. “I guess I just—wanna know… what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking…” Your lips part. Searching for words feels like a physical thing—your stomach is swimming with what feels like a billion thoughts but nothing comes up for air. “I’m thinking I—don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Seokjin turns to look at you. “I won’t make fun,” he whispers.

“I think. I think, you look—um—really… Good. Um. R-Really… good, right now.”

“Thanks.” He looks up like he wants to say something but his eyes harden where he gazes, locking in on the dust motes of the windshield. Your lungs swell small in the quietude. “I think you really look good, too.”

If baser compliments already have you burning then you don’t know what you’d do if he tried anything more romantically complex. Some people are meant for loud love stories and grand gestures and you—all you can do is think too much and you want to say more but Seokjin understands. He understands your silence, your ineptitude.

In a fit of controlled passion, you reach over the console, grasping at his knuckles till he flips his palm right into yours.

“Feels… ”

You wait for something to come to mind. A phrase, a proper thought to give utterance to, all the failures and successes of the night. Faithfully, nothing comes.

It just feels.

And Seokjin seems to agree. He holds tight between the grooves of your fingers.

“You’re very pretty and it hurts,” he says, and he doesn’t try to meet your gaze, and one feeling comes resolute: it feels right.

#bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #bts #jin #seokjin #ubemango fic #f: commissions

201 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 4 years

Text

Rarely Pure & Never Simple, Chapter 7

Obiyukiweek 2020, Day 4: Free Day

The air still smells like freesia and vanilla as Shirayuki returns from her shower, scrubbed clean and with the thinnest pajamas she can muster. Even now the heat’s starting to settle on her skin, turning her post-shower dew into regular summer sweat, and oh, she needs to get that fan oscillating stat, before she stews in her own juices like some Shirayuki-flavored pulled pork.

She settles on the bed, flapping out a hand to turn it on and--

Ugh, it’s just...pushing hot air around, at this point. Maybe if she’s sweats through another set of pajamas tonight, she’ll be able to convince Nanna she needs an AC unit in her window.

(Her room-- back when it was her mother’s-- had a unit, but after an unfortunate incident that involved her father, a thwarted clandestine encounter, and a hole in the garage roof, the replacement instead went into the kitchen, where it’s lived every summer until it malfunctioned and froze to the sill. Grandad’s replaced it since, but still-- it’s never returned to her window. Of all the sins of her mother Shirayuki’s had to answer for, this one is hands down the worst.

“Really?” Obi laughs, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt. She sees the barest hint of abdominals and suddenly, the orientation packet isn’t half as engaging as it was before. “Not the whole...’grandparents convinced their first great grandchild will pop out before graduation’ thing?”

“To be fair,” she manages, breath thin as the worn fabric drops back over her current distraction. “The point was pretty much moot until, um...”

Oh, that-- that grin is trouble. “Until you climbed on top of me and made me come hard enough to go blind?”

He really, really doesn’t need to say it like-- like that. “S-something like that.”)

She’s ready to just call it a day at this point-- and nearly does. Rolling up onto her side, she reaches for the cord to her lamp--

Buzz. Buzz.

Shirayuki blinks. That’s...that’s her phone.

She’s tempted to ignore it-- she does not need Kihal speculating about what her and Obi could get up to in the woods “all unsupervised” tomorrow, and Obi should still--

9:12, her phone reads. His shift at the club is over, and by now he’s probably--

Home. Texting her.

Shirayuki nearly drops her phone straight down the crack between her bed and nightstand, and oh jeez, it would be nice if she could just...calm down for once. Be cool.

It buzzes again. She yelps, trying to flick the screen on with a wild shake. She can save being cool for another day. One where she’s seen him more than once in two weeks.

hey, the text reads, nestled in its innocuous gray bubble, we should talk

Shirayuki experiences something that could medically be called an event. Is he upset? Has she done something--?

not a bad talk, he clarifies, just miss you

She rolls onto her back with a smile, thumbs poking at the screen to say, i miss you t--

mebbe a sexy talk tho ;3 i *rlly* miss u

is that for the sexy or the bad grammar

Both.

She catches the call on the first ring, barely having time for a breath before Obi drawls, “You weren’t complaining about sexy things two weeks ago.”

With all the dignity of a mathlete champion, Shirayuki replies, “Hnn?”

(”Eek!” She yanks the controller up, to the side, anywhere that might help move her character away from giant beetle on the screen. “How do I--? Where do I--?”

Obi’s chest makes a hollow thunk when she rams into it. He coughs; it takes her a full, frantic second to realize it’s to cover a laugh.

“You know,” he murmurs, plucking the controller out of her hands, “joycons don’t have motion sensors.”

“I don’t know,” she returns primly, folding her legs back down over the edge of the bed. “And also you told me this game was easy.”

“Rune Factory is easy.” His mouth twitches. “Half the game is farming.”

“And the other half is fighting...whatever those things are.” She waves at the screen, scowling at the RETRY? stamped across it. “Which is hard.”

“It’s not,” He leans back, setting the controller on his nightstand. “You could even say...”

His arm hooks around her waist, dragging her on top of him. “...It’s as easy as I am.”

Her breath rasps out of her, and oh god, she can feel his dick pressing up against her thigh, so hard already. “You’re not making me feel very accomplished.”

“Well,” his fingernails scrape up the back of her legs, “we can fix that.”)

“You were very enthusiastic,” he remarks casually, “from what I remember.”

“Mm, well.” Two could play at this game...maybe. “It was two weeks ago.”

She may not be able to see him, but she can feel his grimace through the wire. Or well, the air? Wifi? Shirayuki wasn’t really up on how phones worked past the Edison era. It’s not like they ask how cell phones work on the SATs.

“Sorry,” he sighs, pillow audibly whumping over the receiver. “I know I warned you, but I really thought we’d have had more time to talk.”

“It’s okay.” She squirms against her sheets, fighting a shrug he can’t see. “I...I missed you, but I know how much the hours mean to you.”

“I missed you too.” His voice is so soft, so vulnerable, so unlike the boy who made her miss auditions a year ago. “I’m glad we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

“Me too,” she breathes, and oh, it doesn’t seem soon enough. Not when she wants to wrap her arms around him, lay her head on his chest and just listen to him breathe. “You could--”

Come over. Her teeth snap down on the offer. Sure, it’d be nothing for him to hop up to the garage roof, for her to leave the window open--

But that’s how she got here, and nope, no. Not happening.

“--come pick me up tomorrow?” she squeaks out instead, cheeks burning. There’s no way he won’t know she meant something else, that she was avoiding--

“What? Don’t want to be smooshed in the backseat of Big Guy’s swagger wagon?” She can hear the smirk on his lips. “I thought you were looking forward to it.”

“I don’t think Mitsuhide would appreciate you calling his minivan that,” she informs him primly, not a laugh in sight. It’s a feat only achieved by the judicious application of her teeth to her cheeks. “And I was! I mean, I am. It’s just...”

“Big Guy gives priority seating based on height?”

Well, that’s definitely part of it. With all five of them, she’s always left in the back seat, alone, and Obi--

“Gotta say, looking forward to all that leg room,” he drawls, “and getting an airbag all to myself. You think he’ll let me at the aux cable?”

“Never.”

“Aww.” Shirayuki knows he’s pouting; a full-on, little kid lip wibble. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“You know what you did.” A two hour meme mix on the way to Laxdo. “Besides, I just thought it would be better if we, um, had some time to ourselves. Before.”

“Oh?” he hums, so curious, and-- oh, it doesn’t usually take him this long to pick up on when she’s trying to, um, tell him something. “I figured you wouldn’t mind since we’d have all day-- oh.” There it is. “You mean alone.”

“W-well, it’s been two weeks,” she hedges nervously. “And I’m not saying I couldn’t, um, behave--”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up.” The words come out fast, pinched. Maybe she’s being too pushy; Obi likes to tease, but that doesn’t mean he’s always in the mood to-- “I’m definitely not going to be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“O-oh.” Well. That’s hitting different tonight. Maybe because it’s already over ninety, and her temp is climbing with it. Or maybe because she’s only wrapped up in the thinnest, most barely-there clothes she has; the kind he could rip like tissue paper--

Or maybe because it’s been two weeks, and despite going eighteen years without needing any sexual contact, she’s as tragically hard up as a teen comedy protagonist.

“I didn’t know you were...in a bind.” His voice drops to a rumble, and ah, that is not helping the situation. Her thighs slip against each other, trying to dull the ache. “You know I’m always happen to lend a hand when you need it, kid.”

“It not that bad,” she murmurs, but it’s starting to get there the longer he talks. The more she thinks about him showing up tomorrow, just them alone in her house-- “And you didn’t have time to come over.”

“I don’t need to come over.” He’s laughing, but there’s something in it that’s more, that’s almost a purr. “Come on, kid, I gave you those earphones for a reason. Hands free.”

“O-oh.” She’s all too aware of them now, clipped over her ears. Her hand’s only holding the screen out of habit. Hands free.

“I mean, if you’re really hard up,” he hums, “we could do something about it now. Take the edge off.”

She-- she shouldn’t. “Obi! You don’t really mean...?”

“Absolutely. I’d really like to--” his voice cracks,and oh, oh-- “it’s been so long since I made you come, babe.”

(”Well, that’s the last vote for Dreamiest Hair,” Shirayuki sighs, her flyaways dancing at the edge of her vision. “What’s the next category?”

Kihal glances down and grins. “Sexiest Voice.”

She gapes. “Is Mrs Gazalt really going to let us give out an award for that?”

“Mrs Gazalt takes her position of club supervisor very seriously,” Kihal informs her, “and by that I mean, she sits in the corner playing Words with Friends and just lets us do what we want, as long as it isn’t dangerous. Or illegal.”

“Still.” Her mouth pulls tight, a grim line across her face. If the rest of the club could see her now, her Cutest Smile win would be revoked. “That seems, I don’t know...”

“Like it wouldn’t be a contest? I know.” Kihal shrugs. “But that’s what the freshmen picked. I guess they’re just really hoping Obi will growl through his whole acceptance speech.”

“No, I-- wait, Obi?” Her mouth is dry suddenly. She crosses her legs beneath the table. “Why would--? Obi?”

Kihal rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, you’ve heard him over the headset. He’s got that whole like, gravel thing going on. And when he gets heated with someone, like that time with Raj, hoo--” she fans herself-- “I know you have a thing for Zen, but like, I still don’t know how you didn’t jump him.”

Her cheeks burn, painfully. “I-I don’t-- that’s not--”

“Come on, Shirayuki,” she clucks, rolling her eyes. “You have ears. That couldn’t have done nothing for you.”

At the time she’d been so mortified that Raj had not only followed her to the place that was supposed to be her escape, but that he’d brought up what happened, like it didn’t even bother him--

Well, sex had been the last thing on her mind. At least the actual, arousing kind. But now, now--

Listen, I’m sure you have a lot to say but I really can’t-- his voice breaks, and the phantom pressure of his fingers weighs on her lips-- I was supposed to have your back, and I fucked up. I know it doesn’t make up for what happen but I-- his breath rasps from his throat, so raw that hers hurts in sympathy-- I’m sorry.

--she gets it.

“Right, um--” it’s hard to think with her face so hot-- “we should still count the votes anyway.”)

(He wins in a landslide. His acceptance speech at the drama banquet is so suggestive that he ends up with half a dozen panties shoved into his pockets. They tumble out of his jacket when he leans over the console to kiss her, right over the stick shift and onto her lap.

What am I gonna do with a bunch of ladies underwear? he’d murmured against her lips, fingers toying at the strap of her gown, earning her own personal vote. You need any, kid?)

“O-okay.”

“Wha-what?” She winces at the loud bang over the speakers, followed by a softer, more distant “Fuck.”

“Ah, is everything--?”

“Fine,” Obi assures her, sounding like maybe some of his limbs are out of order. “Just...dropped my phone. I didn’t...are you sure?”

Her fingers clench in her sheets. “Yes. I just...don’t really know how to start.”

“Well.” His voice drops playfully low. “Are you in the position?”

“Is the position laying down?” she asks, nervous. “Because I’m laying down.”

He tries to smother it, but she would know his laugh anywhere. “Yeah, great. Good. You’re ready?”

Shirayuki squirms against her pillow, legs rubbing together so hard they should chirp, like some sort of horny cricket. “I guess...”

Obi doesn’t hide his laugh now, just lets it rumble out from his chest in a way that is...not helping. Or maybe it is, considering the whole...situation. “You guess?”

“I just--” am terrified-- “don’t understand.”

He grunts, and by the sound of rustling in her ears, gets comfortable. “What’s holding you up?”

Everything. “It’s better if we just wait isn’t it? I mean to do this, um...”

In person. With someone who knows how to touch her, instead of her fumbling around and showing just how bad at all this sexy stuff she can be.

“This involves sexy talking, doesn’t it?” If distress is a destination, then she’s already laid out a lawn chair and ordered a drink from the cabana. She’s hopeless when her speeches are planned and PG, let alone when she’s trying to improv and it’s about-- about-- “Do I have to talk about penises?”

He makes an ungodly noise. “Kid.”

“I just don’t think I have the experience to talk about them with any sort of authority,” she presses on, brain undaunted by how ridiculous she sounds. “Especially if I’m also supposed to be doing...other things. It’s really--”

“Shirayuki--” he says her name so soft, so fond, and she knows, she knows-- “you should learn how to do it yourself, too.”

--that he’s seen right through her.

“I don’t see why,” she mumbles stubbornly, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. “You’re going to Lyrias too. Your room is in the building next door, and it’s connected to mine! I don’t really think I need to learn how to-- to--” she whines, the words sticking in her throat-- “this!”

“Kid.” He heaves a sigh, and even though she’s dying from the mortification of Being Known, it sends shivers right through her. “Just because you’re subscribed to Sexy Culinary School Weekly with Obi doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know how to cook on your own.”

“You magazine needs to work on its name.”

“Yeah, let me just go workshop it with Princess Prettymane and Calico Dog.”

“It’s duchess.”

“You know that doesn’t make it better, right?” he deadpans. “Princess Prettymane at least has alliteration. Also,” his voice lilts, playful, “you’re trying to change the subject. Which is cute, and really makes me want to kiss you until you worry that we’re going to ruin another pair of tights, but--”

“I’m not wearing tights right now.”

His jaw snaps shut.

“See,” he manages after a long moment, hoarse, “that is a very distracting thing to say.”

The gravel in his voice scrapes at an itch she didn’t know she had, heat painting a searing line down her spine. She’s already slick from sweat, but this adds another texture to it, one that’s growing more insistent by the second.

“And very confusing.” She doesn’t know what it says that even his complaints are doing it for her. “Since a few seconds ago, you weren’t sure if you could talk sexy, and now you’re telling me all sorts of things.”

“I was just...informing you. Of the situation.” Her nails pluck nervously at her waistband. “It’s summer, so, um, no tights.”

“Oh right,” he breathes, wry, “just setting the scene.”

“You know,” she tries again, too shrill, “I’m really fine with how you do it. I don’t really think-- I mean, is it really necessary that I have to--?”

“Kid, you’re the one that said okay,” he reminds her. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s just better for you if you know what you like. That way if you...”

His breath rasps from his throat. “...You should know what you like, separate from, ah, someone else.”

It’s a nice wrapping job he’s done on this baggage, but even with only a year under her belt, she knows what the tag on this one says. “I’m not going to go to college and suddenly not want you anymore, Obi.”

“I know that,” he says, but he doesn’t, not really. Obi doesn’t really talk much about before, about all the girls he’s snuck into his room or met at a party or whatever, but he thinks that all this, this whole wanting to put Tab A into Slot B thing, is the default. That you meet someone and maybe you talk a little and then bingo-bango-bongo, you know if you want to get on a horizontal surface with them.

He doesn’t get that this, for her, isn’t her normal. If Zen hadn’t been kind to her that first day, if he hadn’t helped Kihal with her Brecker problem, if the rumors surrounding them hadn’t whipped up to a fevered pitch so even she couldn’t ignore them-- well, Shirayuki wouldn’t have even been thinking about romance.

So the fact that she can look at him and feel like she’s walked into the country club’s sauna with her school clothes on-- that different. That’s special. That’s not going to just happen with someone she meets in an 8AM lecture.

If only she were as good with word things as her English grades suggested she should be, she’d be to tell him that.

“This isn’t about...” Obi lets out a disgruntled huff. “Listen, I know I definitely had some inspired ideas about what you would like from...before--”

(She’s still panting as she comes down, tremors zipping up and down her spine, “How did you...?”

Obi smiles, a wide Cheshire Cat grin. Fitting, since she definitely feels like she’s been dragged down the rabbit hole. “How did I what, kid?”

“Know to do that. With my hips,” She smooths her palms over where he’d grabbed them. They ache; it wouldn’t surprise her if she had hand-shaped bruises slapped across them tomorrow.

“Oh, I thought you’d like that.” Obi curls into her side, too pleased. He’s hard against her hip, but-- she likes it. “When I caught you coming off that ladder, you made that little hiccuppy noise, so I figured...pretty sensitive right?”

She stares.

He blinks. “What, did I say something--?”

��Obi” she manages, “that was four months ago.”)

“But if you knew what you liked...” She doesn’t need to see him to know there’s a feral smile stretching across his face. “I could do much better.”

Oh, that sounds...nice. She shifts, and she-- she leaks, thick slick coating the tops of her thighs.

“Besides, if we’re going to bring toys into the equation,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the conversation, “you should know what makes you feel good without any electronic intervention, if you know what I mean.”

Ah, she-- she definitely does.

“Toys?” she squeaks. “I don’t-- I don’t remember any, um, toy talk.”

Obi hums, amused. “Well, I did promise you a good graduation gift.”

“You--you already gave me one!” Her hand skips up to run over the smooth plastic. “I’m using it right now!”

“Mm.” He’s too pleased with himself, like he’s caught her scent on the air from all the way across town. “But you won’t need them much at school. So...”

“I won’t need t-that at school either!” She’s glad she’s got these headphones; her cheeks would be making her phone’s screen go haywire. “I’ll have you, and I’m very, um, happy with your performance. I don’t think we need to add, um, props.”

“As chuffed as I am to have you appreciating my prowess, kid--” oh he’s going to be unlivable after this, she can just tell-- “that’s all the more reason to have something in the wings to mix it up. Especially since we’re waiting t-to--” he stumbles, voice dropping to a murmur-- “I mean, since we both want to, um...”

He’s so tortured trying to talk about it without actually talking about it that she takes pity on him. “Since I’m afraid of penises, but we both like to touch each other.”

“I mean, since we’re waiting to have sex,” he manages, pained. “Or at least, the kind that involves dicks and, ah, going places.”

She’s been around him too long, because without even missing a beat, she claps back, “Oh, I didn’t realize yours was having its own hero journey.”

“It has certainly felt a Call to Adventure,” he mumbles, “and a Woman as a Temptress.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, a Meeting with the Goddess,” he amends, quick enough that she grins. “And once again, you’re trying to distract me. Though I thought it would more like ‘clothes I am missing’ instead of ‘Campell’s seventeen stages thesis.’“

“I’m sticking to what I know,” she tells him primly. “But I suppose I could tell you that, um, I’m not wearing a bra?”

He grunts, gutted. “Ohh, you are really just trying to make this difficult.” He adds, a little waspish, “All this trouble better be working for you, because it’s definitely working for me.”

“Oh, are you--” she swallows, hoping he can’t hear it-- “did you really want to try that?”

“Ah, I mean...” His breath comes sharp, short. “Yeah. If you would like to.”

Her breath catches. “I haven’t really, um...”

Done this. Ever. It would be so easy to say it, but it’s just-- belaboring the point. He knows. He just...thinks she’s a much better student than she is. At least about things like this.

“Listen, I haven’t...” He hesitates, and she realizes-- he’s embarrassed. “This isn’t something I’ve done with anyone before. You know I’m not really anyone’s...long term option.”

Grandad always says that she shoots from the cuff-- a nice way of saying doesn’t think before talking-- but she doesn’t regret it, not one bit, when she blurts out, “You’re mine.”

Obi’s breath rasps into the speaker. “Y-yeah. I know.” With a swallow, he adds, “And I know you think I have a lot of experience, but there’s a lot out there to try, and I haven’t even brushed the surface of it, you know? And I just thought, knowing you, knowing how curious you are...”

She blinks. “You mean...you’ve never been with someone long enough to, um, explore?”

“Ah, plenty of people would pick up Sexy Culinary Weekly up off the rack, but um--” he huffs out a laugh, soft and self-deprecating-- “you’d be the first to pick up a subscription.”

Shirayuki doesn’t like to pry, but for a good long moment, she considers asking for a list with some names. Just to talk, of course.

She takes a deep breath instead, trying to focus. “So you want to-- to explore with me?”

“If you want to,” he’s quick to say. “I know all of this is...new. I just thought since we won’t be doing a, ah, traditional progression here--”

“Traditional?”

He sighs. “You know, the uh, porn formula. Fingering, hand job, blow job, eating--”

“OKAY,” she yelps, clapping a hand to her face. “I get it!”

“Right, well, there’s a lot between what we’re doing and PIV.” She nearly giggles at how he says it, piv, like it’s a word and not an acronym. It's almost...cute. Like an adorable monster she could get a plushie of, instead of something that involved penises and could make her pregnant.

“And since we’re not doing any of that soon,” he continues, “we could, ah...take the scenic route. And maybe that would be a little less intimidating for you, since we’d both be new at...whatever we’re doing, instead of feeling like you had to catch up.”

Her heart flutters, and the warmth in her gut spreads up to her chest. “I think you’re mixing metaphors.”

“Sorry, I can’t think of cooking puns for everything,” he deadpans. “Think of it as not having to rush to read back issues, I guess.”

She hums. “I think you’re asking me to help with recipe development.”

“Well, if we’re going to embark on culinary adventures together--” he presses, voice bubbling like he’s trying to keep down a laugh. Several, if she’s anything to go by-- “then you should be comfortable with what your body likes before we add any...additional ingredients. You have to learn to do it the right way before we do it the easy way.”

“Oh,” she breathes. Obi was definitely starting to have a point about doing all this now. “Like New Math.”

“Wow, kid,” he deadpans, “really getting right down to the dirty talk.”

She flushes. Good thing he can’t see her. “I-I thought that was your job.”

He laughs, a rumble she feels right down to her bones. “You’re right. What are you wearing?”

She coughs. “Really?”

“I’m trying to set the scene,” he informs her, far too innocent. “This is a delicate shared fantasy we’re making. Wouldn’t want you to get thrown out of it because I mention panties and you’re wearing boyshorts.”

“I’m not wearing underwear,” she blurts out. “Wearing it overnight increasing the chance of yeast infections.”

Ah, there it is: the regret. It would be nice if she could just...not be like this. If she could just think through what she says when she’s nervous, instead of talking about diseased vaginas with her boyfriend while he’s trying to...make love at her, or whatever.

Now she has to contend with this endless silence, wishing that her mortification would at least dampen her desire even a little. Heaven knows they wouldn’t doing any recipe development tonight, after that. “O-obi?”

“Sorry, I just--” his throat makes a hollow thunk that echoes over the line-- “I got distracted.”

She blinks. “By what?”

“Thinking about how much I want to be there,” he admits, “and what I’d do to you if I was.”

“O-oh.” Maybe some culinary adventure wasn’t...so off the table as she thought. “A-and what would that be?”

A strangled groan tears between them. “I want to eat you out so bad.”

That-- that was not what she’d thought he’d say. “Really?”

“Yeah.” His sigh is strained. “You make such good noises.”

“You like it?” Her thighs clench, and oh, she wishes she knew what to do about it. “I figured it would taste...weird.”

Not that she’s ever tried. But she’s tasted blood (too coppery, bad texture), and well, boogers (too salty; thanks, childhood), and she can’t imagine that can taste much better.

“No,” he hums. “You taste just right. Are you touching yourself yet?”

There’s no way to explain she’s just been rating bodily fluids on a scale of most to least appetizing, so she settles with, “N-no.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, now that he’s reminded her that her body isn’t just some inconvenient appendage for her brain, Shirayuki can’t forget that it’s there. And she certainly can’t ignore the heat between her legs, or the way her skin feels as sensitive as flash paper, ready to burn up at a moment’s notice.

“You should do that,” he tells her, just short of a command, and ah, yeah, that’s sounding like a better and better idea every second. “What are you wearing?”

She’s out of cutesy stalling tactics. Or at least, she can’t think of any, not when her vagina seems to have a pulse of its own. “A tank top. And pajama shorts.”

“Sounds cute,” he breathes. “Put your hand down them.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Pubic hair crinkles under the tips of her fingers, scratchy against her palm. It’s wet too, tangling when she tries to slide further down so she just..doesn’t. “What now?”

“What do you usually do?”

He’s panting just the barest bit, and the sound of him already so undone is what spurs her to admit, “I, um, usually don’t do anything.”

“But you’ve tried before.” She should have never told him that. “What did you do then?”

“I, um--” she licks her lips, nervous-- “put my fingers inside?”

“Right away?” He laughs, and it’s fond, gentle. “No wonder you’ve never gotten much of anywhere. How about you just cup yourself now.”

She does. Little hairs wrap themselves around her fingers, coming loose, and oh, those always refuse to wash off later, clinging to her with the same tenacity as glitter. It’s comforting to feel weight there, at least, even if it clearly isn’t Obi’s. Still, it’s...vaguely unpleasant.

“I don’t feel much,” she reports, trying not to let her frustration leak through. Maybe she just isn’t cut out for masturbation.

“You wouldn’t,” he confirms, “you need to part your lips first.”

She nearly does, until she thinks better of it. “What does that have to do with--?”

“Not your mouth.” He’s barely covering a laugh. “Your other lips.”

“O-oh.” Of course. That makes...more sense.

Her fingers splay, parting her flesh, and ahh, there is...a lot more of her than she remembers. She’s read about lips blooming like flowers before-- mostly in the books Nanna likes to read-- but nothing had ever...blossomed down there for her before. But it’s definitely all petals and sepals now, if things like that were made out of flesh. She saw something like that once, on one of those Syfy shows her grans liked to watch when she was a kid--

She jolts as something slaps her hard, right on the breast, and oh, she’s-- she’s forgotten she’s still holding the phone. Or at least, she was. Now her hand is boneless, empty, and her screen has belly-flopped right onto her boob.

“Oh, um, wait.” She fumbles with it, one-handed, trying to find some place to put it. “I need to--I need to put down my phone.”

He hums, bemused. “Two hands would help.”

Shirayuki’s definitely struggling with one, that’s for sure. Her bedside table is too far for her headphones to reach without tugging; the bed itself is just asking for her to squirm her way to an End Call. She’s stuck discovering all this with one hand plastered in between her thighs, dipping between her vulva in a way that can only be termed distracting.

By the time she settles it on her pillow, far enough away to avoid any mishap via cheek smooshing, she’s practically panting. Maybe she needs to take up a sport at Lyrias; Mathletes clearly isn’t cutting it.

“Okay,” she sighs, dropping back onto her bed. “Now I’m ready. I am parting my...myself. What’s next?”

“Are you wet?”

Well, if she wasn’t before, she certainly is now. “I, um, think so?”

“All right.” His bed groans, like he’s shifting on it, and oh, how she wishes she knew what he looked like now. “Just start sliding your fingers around. You know where your clit is, right?”

“Yes,” she manages, squirming as she rubs at her folds. “I’ve seen a diagram before.”

He laughs, a low rumbling chuckle that sends a shiver down her spine, and yeah, she can take a real good guess at where her clit might be. “Don’t touch it.”

Her fingers still. “Why not?”

“You’re sensitive,” he tells her, so casual. “You get squirmy when I touch it directly. I mean, feel free to try...maybe you’re a lighter touch than I am. You could like it.”

She’s about to balk-- if it doesn’t feel good when he does it, she’s not going to do any better-- when his voice drops and he adds, “Tell me if you do.”

Well, let it not be said that Shirayuki doesn’t believe in science. Which is the reason she’s doing this. Hypothesis testing. Not because her boyfriend asked in a ridiculously sexy way.

With a steeling breath, she swipes her clit with the pad of her finger and-- y i k e s.

She grits her teeth, nerves still jangling. “Um, yeah, that didn’t feel great.”

“Too bad.”

With a sigh, she stretches her neck, hoping to get that raised-hackles feel out of it and-- oh.

Rum Tum stares down at her with his glassy black eyes, mouth stitched into its permanent smile. That’s really...not helping.

“Um.” Duchess Prettymane is next to him, head tilted in question. Calico Dog is definitely just...judging her. “Give me one second.”

With her free hand, she turns each of her stuffies around, placing them in a line on her window sill. They don’t need to see any of this.

“Okay.” She settles back into her pillows. “So I definitely don’t touch that. I just...touch around it?”

“Yeah,” he huffs out, amused. “But no rubbing! Long strokes, just barely brushing it, both fingers, one on either side.” She can hear his grin when he adds, “You like to be teased.”

She wants to protest that; she nearly does, but--

Her fingers skid over her folds, tracing just around the lip of her slit, stopping just shy of her clit, and-- mm, all right, he, ah, definitely has a point. This feels much better.

Still, she’s so used to Obi’s touch; he lingers in all the right places, calluses catching on her clit in a way that makes her writhe. Her own fingers are too tiny and her movements too awkward. She’s too wet too; as much as it’s definitely helping with the, um, sensations she’s feeling, controlling her fingers makes her feel like a contestants on one of those Japanese game shows. Just when she thinks she’s gotten it, when she’s starting to build to something interesting if not good--

“How is it?”

She nearly nicks herself with a nail. “Better when you do it.”

“Ah, I see,” he hums. “A pillow princess--”

Shirayuki has absolutely no idea what that means, but she knows she’s being teased. “No--!”

A thunk stops her mid-thought. Her hand snaps away from her shorts. “Did you hear that?”

“Kid--”

She eyes the door warily. “Do you think it’s Nanna?”

Obi smothers a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure that was just your phone.”

“No, I put it behind my--” she looks down, and oh yes, there it is, right on the floor.

“Oh,” she breathes, mortified. “Oh. Right. Just, um, give me a minute.”

It’s a tricky proposition trying to fish it off the floor. For one, her bed is high and her arms are short-- oh, she was so committed to the whole fairy bower aesthetic of lofting her bed when she was twelve, but now it’s really inconvenient-- and for another, one hand is contaminated with, um, juices, and though she doesn’t want to smear any of that all over her phone--

Well, wiping it on the sheets is a bad decision. Nanna’s nose is sharp, and if there’s one conversation she doesn’t want to happen, it’s why does you bed smell like sex, Shirayuki? She’s done well not getting grounded so far, despite the number of times Obi’s been caught shirtless in her room, but she knows better than to try to test her grandmother’s patience on it.

Shirayuki drops to her belly, elbow digging into the mattress to ground her. Her finger are just long enough to brush the screen--

“Hey kid,” Obi sighs, “do you actually want to do this?”

She yelps. Only a quickly placed hand keeps her from meeting her carpet face first. She does have her phone though. “What?”

“I thought that this was going to be fun and sexy, but now...” He grunts, uneasy. “It seems like I might forcing you, and that’s really not what I wanted to happen. If you don’t want--”

“NO! I mean,” she manages, throwing herself back on her bed, “you have a point. Even though I prefer you touching me by lot--”

Obi hums, too smug.

“--we can’t always make the time to, um, do that.” It’s be nice if the bed could just swallow her whole right now, put her out of her misery, but-- she wants this. She wants him, and part of that is having terrible conversations that make her feel like a five alarm fire in a fireworks factory. “And if we’re having trouble just a few houses away, I’m sure we’ll find a way to have it when you’re only a few doors down too. Which is fine, it’s not like I have to, um...”

He makes a noise, intrigued, and oh, she really hates how badly she does want to keep this boyfriend. If only she liked him less, then she wouldn’t have to talk about any of this at all.

“I just mean, sometimes I think about you when we can’t be together--”

“Sometimes?”

“You know what I mean,” she snips, annoyed. “Sometimes I think about you in a specific way and I get a little, um, stuck. And that can be frustrating. So it’s probably better that I learn this now, than--

“Wait.” He’s breathless, unfocused. “Are you telling me you’ve been all...stuck lately?”

“N-no!” That is really not what she wants to be talking about right now. “I mean, a-a little? Kind of.”

She can hear the rush of his breath through his nose, his long thoughtful pause--

“Do you need some inspiration?” He’s eager, voice tight and nearly winded. “Purely above the waist, of course.”

It occurs to her that he means pictures; pictures of the adult variety. The yes leaps to her lips, but oh, what if Nanna saw it, and--

“Here, one sec.”

He’s not joking; barely a second later her phone buzzes, snapchat informing her that Obi has a new photo. She frowns, flicking open the app, and -- oh. Yes. That was. Definitely not there a few moments ago.

He’s naked from the waist up, lounging in a pair of gym shorts, his legs spread wide where he sits, and-- “Are you, um...?”

“Hot?” he growls playfully. “For you, yeah.”

“Hard,” she blurts out, since she never misses an opportunity to make a fool of herself. It would be nice if her curiosity could take a vacation for a day or two. Give her skin a break.

“Oh. Um. Yeah,” he grunts. “I mean, I’m trying to get you off, and I’m think about touching you. Sort of...a natural response.”

“But you aren’t touching yourself?”

“We hadn’t really talked about that,” he murmurs shyly. “This is supposed to be about you. I didn’t want to get distracted.”

“Ah...” That place between her legs throbs. She snakes a hand under her waistband, and oh, they’ve barely lost any ground at all. “You should.”

“W-what?”

“Touch yourself,” she tells him, running her fingers over her folds. “I think it would help.”

“Oh.” She might as well have hit him for the way that bursts out of him. “I didn’t--”

“I can give you inspiration too.” She whips off her tank before she can think better of it, struggling when she realizes, no, one hand will definitely not be enough to get the job done--

And then it’s nothing to take a picture, or to send it. A few taps and he’s choking, “Did-- did you mean to send this to me?”

It’s then that it strikes her: she just sent a naked picture to her boyfriend. Well, a half naked picture, but for what he could see she might as well have done the whole thing.

“Oh, is that-- is that okay?” She drags her safe hand over her face, sweat clinging to her palm. “I should have checked--”

“Yes!” he pants, half wild. “Yes, this is okay, Very, very okay. I just...you really want me to use this? For, uh, jacking off?”

“Could you?”

“Haah,” he breathes. “Yes. God, your breasts are so good, babe. And your face...”

“Then yes.” She licks her lips, nervous. “Please.”

“I don’t really need the help,” he warns, “I’m a real pro at this.”

“I want you to.” She doesn’t know how she says it without even a stutter. The thought of him touching himself like that, knowing that he’s thinking of her, just her-- “I want you to touch your-- you--”

“Really, kid, you don’t have to--”

“Cock.”

Just saying it shakes her up like a soda can, ready to burst, and she almost wishes she could take it back, that she could unsay half this conversation-- until he groans; the frantic slide of clothes loud from his end of the phone.

“What do you-- what should I--?”

He sounds so lost, his words hardly above a whine, and that’s the only reason she’s able to say, “I want you to, um, stroke it?”

“Yeah, I am-- I am already there, babe,” he assures her, voice throaty and strained. “You’re touching yourself too, right? You’re wet?”

“Y-yeah.” She slides her hand under the band, and ah, she hadn’t know it was possible to be wetter, that her thighs could be slick nearly to the edge of her shorts, but here she is. “I like hearing you. I-I mean...after graduation, when we went to the field, I--” she licks her lips, mouth so dry-- “I really wanted to hear you come again.”

“Jesus. Fuck.” His mattress creaks, distressed. “That was-- that was two months ago. You could have just--” he hisses, so sensitive-- “god, I would have come for you anytime.”

“Could you?” It comes out coyer than she expects, far too confident to sound like her, and she nearly apologizes, until he-- he--

He whimpers.

“If I asked really nice,” she hums, fingers skating along her folds, clit pulsing with how much she wants this, wants him. “Could you come for me again?”

He groans, pained. “Y-yeah. I could definitely arrange something.”

“Now?”

“Shit. Fuck.” He moans, but it trails off into a laugh. “Definitely won’t take long if you keep this up.”

“Good,” she sighs, pace quickening, her fingers daring to loop ever closer to the crux of her problem. “I want to hear you. It’s been so long...”

She hesitates. Obi is always the one to tease, and her the one that squirms away, the one that needs to be cajoled back into the scene, but now--

Well, the shoe is on the other foot isn’t it. “It’s been so long,” she says again, only this time she lets her voice go breathy, lets it linger on the cusp of whine. “Don’t make me wait, Obi...”

He doesn’t.

“Fuck,” is the only word he manages before he’s groaning, whimpering, making every sexy sound he can at once as he comes hard.

“Haah,” he moans, breath heaving. “That was-- that was definitely not how I expected this call to go.”

Shirayuki stills her fingers, mouth slanting into a smirk. She’d always wondered how Obi could watch her orgasm and not want to do it himself, not need to do it when she’s dying every time, but-- now she gets it. She may not have come, but there’s something supremely satisfying in watching-- no, listening to him fall apart instead.

“Oh?” She still sounds coy. Like Obi does every time she goes half-blind from the force of her own climax.

“You didn’t come, did you?” He’s put out, and she can tell his eyebrows are drawn, that his jaw is set. “I could--”

“No, no, don’t worry about me,” she assures him. “I’m fine. Besides, we have to get up tomorrow.”

“Ah, fuck, right. Senior Day.” He sighs. “All right, fine. But next time--”

“Next time,” she agrees. “Though I really enjoyed this time too.”

He makes a noise that sounds like dying. “Yeah, well, that’s great, but I’m not the one who needs to learn how to get off like a champ. But whatever,” he sighs, “we have all the time in the world for you to get it.”

Her chest warms, and she smiles against her pillow. “Right. I’ll see you tomorrow? Bright an early?”

He groans. “Yeah, yeah. Bright and early. Good night, kid.”

#obiyukiweek20 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #lemon #my fic #rarely pure and never simple #listen this originally was supposed to run parallel to zen and kihal's B-side #BUT HERE WE ARE #this little opener turning into a whole fic in itself #but i promise #NEXT TIME IS SENIOR DAY

28 notes · View notes

pinencurls · 4 years

Text

Oh Honey

Hey! here’s the last of my draft one shots! Hope u enjoy and if u don’t remember I wrote this a g e s ago so you can’t blame me !

Italy, bike rides and a sun burnt Harry

3.6k

These days, we wake in the early hours of the morning. It's hard not to stir when the sun rises so early and bright through the thin cotton drapes strung up over the bedroom window. Sometimes, we stay quiet. Exchanging a few murmurs of good morning wishes and lightly pressed kisses; silently decided to stay in each other's arms until the ungodly hours pass and breakfast is more tempting than bed.

I think it's Wednesday. I got pulled into the warped holiday time effect as soon as we arrived. I was free from jet lag at least, the flight from London to Italy only changing the clocks forwards about an hour. Harry had been less fortunate; the busy winding of work post-tour kept him out in Los Angeles a few more days than planned whilst Sarah, Mitch and I made our way to the holiday home we'd booked in Italy to celebrate a successful first tour. By the time Harry arrived in the white-walled villa tucked away comfortably in a small town - away from prying eyes, he was slow-moving and sleepy, although the afternoon was only just setting in. He'd eagerly drunk the coffees we offered and passed out around 5pm. Harry complained to me the next day that he was still exhausted, his brain and body were working nine hours behind after all-

"You shouldn't have slept on the plane, H." I mumbled, steadying the kettle over the large white mug as I poured hot water into Harry's second coffee of the morning. He'd been vocal about his dissatisfying sleep all of the two hours we'd been awake and my comment was seemingly unhelpful. He confirmed this by burying his face into my neck, head laying heavy on my shoulder, a low groan buzzing against my skin.

It took him a few days before he was fully himself again, but we've been here for a week now and everything's falling easily into long days by the pool and explorations into the cities either side of us. It feels oddly like a family holiday, I've known Sarah long enough; We grew up in the same town a few years apart, both moving away when we hit eighteen to pursue careers in similarly creative industries - music and journalism. We ended up at the same dinner parties and, for a few months before she moved to LA, we shared a shoebox flat in London.

She's the reason I met Harry; I stayed in her overheating LA apartment over the Easter break of 2017. We spent most days sprawled out on her sofa with all the windows thrown open, catching up on everything that'd happened since she moved away. She'd promised I could meet Mitch - a guitarist for the new band she'd started playing with whom she'd been dating for a few months. I'd heard bits and pieces about him as soon as they met, mostly about his brother-like closeness to the singer they played behind, and as promised, the Tuesday afternoon I opened her front door to Mitch, an equally long-haired-Hawaiian-shirt-clad boy followed.

Harry was goofier and unarguably louder, we paired up naturally in the group of four and it wasn't hard to get to know him, or to fall for the infamous charm I'd heard he was known for. To my pleasant surprise, it didn't feel odd when we joined in with Sarah and Mitch's couple-y activities - mini-golf, brunch, movie nights, I tagged along to a few studio sessions too before I had to go home. We promised to keep in touch but I was certain I'd probably never see him again, or at least not in the same way we'd spent the last week but, when he kissed me goodbye at the airport, I had a little hope.

"Hazzaaa!" Mitch calls loudly down the hall - no doubt on a temporary high from his new coffee addiction. There's no point responding, I can hear his footsteps storming towards our door before he swings it open and I can hide my face further into Harry's shoulder, who is unsurprisingly awake now.

"Go away Rodrick." I grumble, smiling at the rumble of laughter my nickname causes to ripple through Harry's chest.

"We've got bikes, Sarah's found a ride that's only a few miles - we're gonna get lunch." I could probably live here with Sarah and Mitch forever, there was only a few years difference between us but sometimes they felt like parents - or older siblings, cooing over me and Harry's relationship. I always felt part of something when we were all together, it wasn't so hard to imagine moving around each other in the same villa for the rest of our lives.

"Give us a sec Mitchy," Harry's waking up now, I roll over as he leans forward to sit, reaching out for the tea Mitch passes him. I hear mine clink down on my bedside table. "When're you leavin?"

"Thirty minutes?" Mitch replies, twisting his wrist to check the time on the ridiculously retro watch Harry had bought for his birthday. "S'already midday."

Harry hums, promising we'll be down in ten before Mitch accepts his mission of recruitment successful and leaves the room. I shift my head at the metal click confirming the door's shut behind him.

"M'gonna stay here," My face is resting in the crook of my arm, eyes closed as I try to cling to the last bit of sleep, "too tired."

The duvet shuffles slightly again with Harry's movements. He rests on his front now, his torso propped up as he leans his face down into my hair. I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to his smiley morning kisses or the smooth scratch when his curls fall over my own.

"It'll be fun," I turn beneath him, settling to listen to his groggy drawl, his accent is always thicker in the mornings, he strokes a wave of hair behind my ear to see my face. "We'll get a nice lunch - Sarah'n'Mitch'll fawn over some street cats, what more could you want?"

"Sleep..." I giggle, his classic pout having the opposite effect as intended. "I'll come next time, promise. Today I just wanna sleep a little more and maybe go for a swim."

He glances down at me for a moment longer, hesitant to accept my excuse before swooping down to press a kiss to my cheek with a hum of approval and bounding out of bed. He tugs a white t-shirt over his head, pulling it down his torso to reveal the smiling bee graphic - "Enjoy Health - Eat Your Honey." He tries to calm his slightly dishevelled curls in the mirror before he goes back to his long morning process of getting ready.

I could spend all day by the pool if nobody stopped me. It's small enough to fit cosily in the garden of the villa and still leave enough patio for lounging chairs and a small table. A row of citrus fruit trees line the fence at the edge of the garden, they offer a little shade over the far end of the pool in the afternoons when the sun reaches its peak. Every now and then a blossom will fall from the larger trees along the patio; the first day we were all together, Sarah, Mitch and I swam for hours until the evening breeze got too cool against our wet skin. Harry had been reading in a chair a few feet off from us and despite our noisy chatter, he'd fallen asleep, no doubt aided by his still slightly backwards body clock. I made my way over to wake him, the breeze must have been stronger than we thought because as I got closer I noticed tiny pink flowers nestled in his hair - they must have blown from the trees and landed on him as he slept. For hours after he trailed behind me inside through the patio doors, I was picking small blossoms from his curls, he was smiley and dopey from jet lag as he kept reaching his hands out to catch mine and pull me into his chest. I'd missed him for the last ten months when he'd been dazzling the world in flares and Gucci suits. I visited and travelled with him for a few show dates, of course, we'd even managed to spend Christmas and our one year anniversary together, but it was different spending so much time apart. Everything was still shiny and new to me when he left for his first solo tour - we'd only been together four months, most of which had been spent in his London house or weekends together in LA. The refreshing familiarity of being together again after so long hadn't quite rubbed off as we lay sprawled over the sofa, blossom abandoned for now.

"What're you thinking about?"

I look up at Harry, he's changed into a grandpa esque pair of brown drawstring cords I don't miss the little bow he's tied. He raises his eyebrows at me inquisitively when I don't answer, smirking slightly as my eyes wander up to his face.

"Nothing," I smile, pausing to yawn, "Just thinking about what 'm gonna do today."

"Sure you don't want to come with us?" He's collecting bits and pieces from around the room - his phone, wallet, sunglasses, but he peaks his head over his shoulder to look at me as he asks.

"Yeah, think I'm just gonna sit outside for a bit, I wanna catch up on a little bit of work."

His eyebrow quirks up slightly, the 'catching up on work' conversation is something we've had tirelessly throughout our fourteen months together. His work was obviously a little more...noticeable. When he was at work it was normally in a studio all day or sat in meetings, sometimes in a different city or country to me. I could work at home more at least; the articles and reviews I wrote almost always required me to spend a few days out of town to research the topic but once I had my notes, I could write from home. This sometimes lent itself to later nights sat up in my small study - work day blurring into the evening. Harry couldn't argue on it though, he did the exact same. His long hours out of the house didn't cancel out the long ones in, Jeff called any hour of the day with 'pressing matters' and even without external pressures, Harry was determined to get everything perfect, even if it meant tweaking new songs on his weekends off. Normally when he was overwhelmed by the workload of album deadlines and promo he was out in LA, where the pre-sleep chatter whilst we both got ready for bed wasn't an option.

"We're on holiday love, you can let some of it slide."

"It's not work-work, I just wanna write a little." I brush the topic away, it didn't need to abet the argument it'd triggered in the past. "Hurry up - Mitch'll run off without you at this rate."

"I wouldn't worry, don't think Mitch has run a day in his life." Harry chuckles, the goofy smile he wore the whole first day we met beaming back at me as he tucks his belongings in his pockets. He leans down to where I'm sat up over the duvet now, kissing me goodbye. "Be back in a bit, don't burn the house down."

"Promise not to - don't fall off your bike." I say as he pulls away. "Love you- now go, I can hear Mitch having a hissy fit from here."

He laughs. Everything's so easy here, it feels as if time has warped slightly and nothing's too hard anymore. The sun's almost at it's strongest now, defying the curtains and falling on Harry as he makes his way to the bedroom door, picking up his pace as Mitch yells up the stairs at him to 'Stop messin with your hair and come down already.'

"Love you!" Harry calls behind him. His heavy footsteps are followed by Sarah's laugh from downstairs and then the door clicks shut and everything's quiet again.

After an hour or so laying by the pool and a nap that might have lasted a little longer than planned, the sun beats a little heavy and I make my way inside. I've written a decent amount - I found myself recalling the last week here, dipping into more personal ground than I would usually. It's not that Harry and I's relationship is a secret anymore, after about eight months people caught on, but we were still private. He'd brush off interviewer questions about relationships and his 'status' and my social media profiles are free from the hundreds of cosy domestic Harry photos I might have posted if he was someone less in the public eye. It's hard sometimes, especially when I can't share a decent chunk of my photography and all the experiences I might have written about. My old film camera is sat on the kitchen counter now, no doubt filled with sweet moments that'll never see the light of day outside of the four people in them.

The fridge was pretty well stocked considering we'd spent a lot of evenings eating out. We'd taken an eventful shopping trip earlier in the week to the massive grocery store in the town thirty minutes down the road. We ended up buying too much fruit and bread and not much else. The trek home hadn't been considered as Harry and Sarah grew more and more excited over the fresh foods they were used to being shipped over and older than ideal, after it all, we ended up on a long single-tiered town bus, tote bags full and tucked safely on our laps. There one photo in particular of Mitchell standing at the bus stop, watermelon in his arms and a bemused expression on his face that I can't wait to see again once I get to the small camera store back home.

After scouring the shelves for a moment longer, I settle on a sandwich. I'm slicing crunchy lettuce on the old wooden board with swirly carvings around the edges when I hear the door open and familiar voices.

I smear a thin layer of mayonnaise over the contents of the bread before cutting two even triangles and wander out to the living room. Mitch and Harry are already lounging over two of the sofas when I get there, Sarah's nowhere to be seen but the sound of the shower running upstairs starts quietly through the house.

"Hey," I call, making my way over to the back of the black sofa Harry's laying over. "How was it?"

Harry peaks one eye open and reaches his hand up towards me-

"Good- what're you eating?" I steer my food away from his prying fingers as he swoops up to tear off a corner.

"Sandwich, didn't you just eat lunch?"

"Yeah but the portions were tiny," Harry whines slightly, reaching up in a second attempt, protesting when I love the bread away from him again. "I'm growing!"

Mitch laughs from the other side of the room. He swings his legs over the side of the sofa and stands up, rubbing his eyes slightly and trogs over to the stairway. "I'm gonna go shower."

"Good idea, you stink mate," Harry smirks cheekily, earning a glare from Mitch before he disappears up the stairs.

"How was it really, H?" I ask before taking another bite of my sandwich.

"S'good, we cycled for ages - it was actually really beautiful. You've gotta come with me sometime before we go home, although we need to find a different cafe- I paid €11 for the smallest burger I've ever seen."

"We'll bring a picnic or somethin'" I muse, thinking between chews. "I was thinking we could make something tonight 'stead of going out again, something summery maybe."

"Yeah?" Harry mumbles, rubbing his hand over his sun pink cheeks, "Like what?"

"Maybe pitas and some fruit- you bought enough kiwis to last us a lifetime." It's true, he'd claimed he had to in celebration of the tour coming to an end. "Here, d'you want the rest?"

Harry's eyes wander down to the remaining half of my sandwich I'm holding out to him, I try not to think too long about how I could watch his sleepy eyes light up for as long as he'd let me.

"I had something after you left earlier, I'm not that hungry." He looks up at me, unconvinced, but takes the plate anyway, quickly setting the plate on his lap and tucking in. Now that he's sat up in the light without the shadows of the dark cushions around him, I can see how pink is face really is. There's a blushing red along his cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears are bright pink. I brush my thumb over his ear softly, catching his attention as he winces slightly.

"Sorry- think you caught the sun a bit." He swallows the food in his mouth and nods up at me.

"Yeah, hurts a bit." I tilt his face slightly to see the other side - the pink continues down his neck and shoulders where it disappears under the tan lines of his t-shirt.

"Did you not put suncream on before you left?" His mouth full again, he just shakes his head. I smile slightly at how suddenly he's eased into his patient role, munching on his sandwich and peering up at me - ready for me to tend to his injuries. A soft grumble comes from Harry before I sigh - "I'll get the aloe vera."

I walk out into the cool tiled kitchen, opening the fridge again to retrieve the small pot of gel from the top shelf. It was one of the only sensible things we'd managed to buy during the kiwi shopping spree.

"And why didn't you have any suncream on?" I chastise him, giggly at his pouty expression. "It's right on the table, you know."

"You were in bed - I forgot." He eyes my movements as I tuck my leg undeath my body and sit opposite him on the sofa, twisting the cap off the small glass pot in my hands.

" M'I supposed to remind you of everything now, can't even remember suncream without me hey?" He shakes his head, curls tousled around his face. "Come here, stay still..."

I balance the pot in his hands and push his hair back and behind his ears, it'd gotten longer on tour and was threatening to grow into a curly lord farquaad territory. He keeps his head in place when I take back the pot and spread the cold gel over his nose, smiling slightly in surprise-

"S'cold." He watches as I scoop another load of aloe onto my fingertips and cover his cheeks.

"It's been in the fridge- how're your shoulders?" I ask once the gel is spread sufficiently over the pink tint that covered his face and the tips of his ears.

"Not so bad, it's just my face that hurts really."

I hum an okay, spinning the pot lid back on and placing it on the coffee table beside my lunch plate. Harry's hands lay limply in his lap, one reaching slowly to stroke the hem of my loose summer dress. I look up to see his slightly shiny face settling in a shy expression-

"I can be quite forgetful - might have to look after me forever you know." He smiles lovingly, looking up from where his finger and thumb play with the cotton of my dress, to meet my gaze.

"Oh forever, so you've got no plan to improve this bad habit then?" He laughs at my teasing and his smile broadens into a trademark Harry grin.

"Nah...S'okay though, I'll look after you too."

We all end up in the garden by eight pm, lying around the pool with platters of fruit and pittas full of salad and falafel. Harry has a stripe of suncream down his nose and he keeps trying to throw kiwi into Sarah's mouth, although it's ending up anywhere but. The pink in his cheeks has calmed down by now and he's stolen a blue scrunchie from my suitcase and tied a little bun on top of his head.

The hours tick by and the air starts to lose its humid warmth. Pair by pair we trickle back inside, Sarah and Mitchell retreating to their room first.

Harry's standing above me, barefooted in the grass and tipsy on wine. He holds out his hand to me and I take it, pulling myself up from the soft blanket we'd been laying on.

"Leave it," Harry says when I kneel down to fold it, "It's not gonna rain."

Before I can protest he's pulling me behind him and inside the sliding french doors. The tile floor's cold against the bottoms of my feet but the air inside is warm, Harry squeezes my hand in his and pulls me closer against his side, slinging his arm over my shoulders. He's soft and sleepy, and we make out way up the curling staircase clumsily in each other's arms.

I call goodnight to Mitch and Sarah before falling into my own bed. There's a second and then two familiarly inked arms curl around me and pull me into a warm chest. I'm a little drunk, sun-kissed and sleepy from the long conversations of the evening and it isn't long before my eyes are closing - the last noise I can hear is Harry's soft mumbling against my hair. I could definitely stay right here forever.

#Harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #oh honey #italy harry #mitch rowland #sarah jones #fine line #harry styles mitch #harry styles sarah

39 notes · View notes

thedappleddragon · 3 years

Text

hooooo my fucking god I don't know why but recently my anxiety/sence of dread has SKYROCKETED in the last 3 days, I haven't been sleeping great and last night I had an anxiety dream about manning the register at work. idk I guess today was fine but im so fucking overstimulated I guess?? I seriously just dont fuking know. but anyway here’s a summary of some days that I may or may not remember. putting it under the cut

Wednesday I was exited to work, they didn’t need me, I hung out with my friends at their outdoor band concert and had boba and it got super cold out

Thursday I went with my dad to drop off a car, then we had breakfast together at a little restaurant I had never been to before. He told me about his childhood n stuff. Then I went to work and priced things outside and felt good about helping some people buy plants even tho I didn’t know exactly what I was doing and ended up handing them off to Becky anyway. Got off work, came home, hung out waiting to be able to go visit my friend but she took a while so dad and I made the snack he had a lot as a kid which was just handmade chocolate frosting on graham crackers. Eventually my friend got home so I grabbed one of those graham crackers in some Tupperware and some other stuff and headed out. It was a longer drive than I was expecting but eh whatever, I got there no problem with a bunch of dad’s shit in the back of the car. We had awkward hellos in her apartment and I pet her fat ass cat until she suggested we go thrifting and oh my god I had never wanted to go thrifting more in my life than right then. I had one of those moments where I realized oh I’m an adult who can go out and just DO things :D so we walked around and gossiped in goodwil and had a great time until they closed, whereupon steph frantically looked for anything that was open near us while I drove around. We settled on going to a little park nearby, where we climbed on the tube with holes on it and swung on the swings. Then we walked around a dense tree/brush like and into the middle of a field, having our main character moments as we walked to the top of a hill with a cross on it. I took a picture of the sunset and a selfie with both of us before we walked back through the field and drove back to her apartment. I gave her 2 tiny flower jars and she let me borrow her container of earring hardware and a bunch of different tiny things to make into earrings. I had a great time and I’d love to hang out again, maybe when everything isn’t closed lmao. We joked a lot about understanding why people do drugs lmao since there’s nothing else to do! everything’s closed!! Also some joke flirting mixed in for flavor. We have an excuse to hang out again so I can return her earring supplies and she can return my Tupperware lol. I thought my phone was going to die on the way home before I realized there was a charging cord in the car! Nice. Got home, watched my friend stream plasmaphobia for a bit while I finished a birthday gift, and hung out and slept when she quit streaming.

Friend’s birthday party day!! Also dad moving day!! The first task of the day was to drive with my dad down to the nearest uhaul to pick up a big ol’ truck, and follow him home in the car while he lead the way in the truck. Then we brought his car full of shit to the apartment, got his key and paid his first month, and looked through everything to do inspection. Tbh it’s a pretty nice apartment, I’d love to spend some time there once it’s a bit more furnished. My favorite part is a Harry Potter style hidey hole closet that’s meant for storage, but it’s the perfect size for a secluded hangout spot for me. I’ll totally let him use it for storage if he wants, I just like sitting in there. I joked that I would let Emily hang out in the spare bedroom and I could get the tiny room. But we spent time cleaning and looking around and bringing in boxes before dad sent me to pick up lunch, my sister, and another car load of boxes. I left to do all 3 and came back with Mcallisters, and we all sat on the floor and ate together. A very nice way to break in a new apartment. We brought in boxes and dad sent us on a quest to pick up a car part and drop it off where the car we dropped off the day before. We got there just fine, but getting to the second location was a nightmare because of all my wrong turns and u turns and no left turns, it was awful. I mean we got there eventually but still. By then it was time for me to get home so I could wash my hair and get ready for the party!! I got everything ready, but my sister wouldn’t be home with the car on time, so I just took my mom’s van. I was on time for once!! But in exchange I didn’t realize I had forgotten Cassidy’s gift until I was like 3 minutes away. But also I found driving my moms van very easy compared to last time I tried to drive it, and I think I’m a much more confident driver now :) but I was one of the first to arrive, accidentally twinned with cass, waited for everyone to show up, met her new dog, and then we all packed up the picnic basket and walked to the top of a hill to have our little sandwiches and play cards against humanity. On the walk there we passed by a park where little kids were asking why we were all dressed up if it wasn’t Halloween, so I shouted at them that it was her birthday and handed them the branch I was carrying. We played CAH on the hill and ate little sandwiches and meatballs and drank sparkling juice and had a lovely time, and when we were done, we walked back to her house where there was pizza and we all changed out of our formal wear. My bra was sewed into my dress with 6 stitches, so I grabbed some scissors and flashed my friend’s cat as I cut my bra free of the dress because I forgot to bring an extra. I changed into my ghostbusters shirt and snake onesie and joined everyone outside for pizza and lots and lots of stories and ice cream cake and gossip and quiplash and balloons and gifts and CAH and friends leaving and new friends arriving and more quiplash and then the grass getting cold and wet and going ham on keeping the balloons up and then playing that’s what she said (basically CAH but ✨for women ✨) and by this time there was a dude I didn’t know but he was very nice and cute and already taken. Tbh I didn’t know half the people there, there was a group of 4 cool alt people I had never met and then the 4 band kids I already knew but everyone else seemed to know each other and they all had great energy so I yelled a lot and joked a ton and had an amazing time. As the crowd dwindled and the night got cooler, I helped put things away before I left so I could be a nice guest, said my goodbyes, gathered my things, and drove home past midnight. Ask walked around the house turning off lights like my mom asked, I realized that my dad wouldn’t be sleeping here anymore, and I felt bad that he had to spend the night all alone in his new apartment :( and this is going to be a huge financial burden that idk if he can afford, rent for the apartment is almost as much as my mom pays for the house. Jejdjgjt this is all a mess and I would like to go back to ignoring it all <3 Listened to a lot of two trucks by lemon demon lmao

Hoo boy howdy I did a lot of shit today. Basically as soon as I woke up I got a text from dad about us helping him move with a promise of donut holes and a fruit platter. I walked out to the garage to find our family friends the drakes helping to move boxes, so we all spent several hours loading boxes into our cars and driving back and forth from the house to the apartment, with emily and I avoiding the drakes as much as possible lmao. When we had moved as much as we could in the car, we started loading up the uhaul, shoving as much shit in there as possible so we only had to do one trip there and back. Partially through unloading the truck the drakes stopped cleaning things before we brought them in left and some randos from dad’s work came to help unload and somewhere in the middle of all this our aunt and uncle and her service dog came to visit?? Bruh idk so much stuff happened. Emily asked me to take her home so she could work on school stuff and we put things back into the garage and I went back to the apartment to help with stuff and hang out with my aunt while my dad and uncle returned the truck. We made a list of stuff I might need for college and I wrote it down on a notepad and most of the page space was taken up by ponies tbh. The men brought back burger king and eventually my aunt and uncle left. I helped my dad clean up and set up his wifi and we watched mama Mia. It was my first time seeing the film, and it was really dang fun. Then I made dad drive me ho e since emily was still gone with the silver car. I’ll spend he night over there eventually, but not yet. I’m exited to eventually invite friends over since I’ve never been able to do that before. So now I’m home trying g to go to sleep so I can work tomorrow. I keep thinking about smoking weed and making out with someone in the hidey hole in dad’s apartment............ even tho I have literally no one to do that with afsagssg I’m a CHILD.

Had dreams last night about being stuck on the infinity train again, except there was a mechanic of switching the world between 2d and 3d and the cast of Bluey had to help bingo go through stages of grief / character moments to help her get off the train or something. I was tossing and turning for a few hours anxiously waking up thinking I was gonna be late and going back to bed so I could sleep/dream more. But then I finally got up, fed my cat, fed myself, helped clean the kitchen a little bit, got ready for work, arrived 15 minutes late on accident, worked register for 6 hours, got more comfortable with register and learned how to do stuff, lots of friendly people, lots of me struggling and my bones hurting, dad brought me food but I couldn’t get to my lunch break until everything was room temperature. The chicken sandwich reheated well but the fries did not. After work dad and I stopped by the house, I got an info card to fill out so I can be called in for jury duty eventually, dad handed me $50 for dinner for us and my sister, we laid on the floor and looked at the noodles and company menu, drove there, picked up our food, had a lovely dinner at dad’s apartment, laid around while he talked to Greg on the phone, went to target to pick up small apartment things like a clock and a trash can and some small groceries but it made me nervous because I hate spending money and watching my dad spend money he may or may not have, and by then we were tired as shit and after dropping his stuff off emily and I drove home and I tried teaching her how to crochet for a school project. Now I’m hanging out wanting to go to bed and thinking about how everybody else my age working at ACE is doing like 60 hours a week with 2 jobs and saving for college and I’m just sitting here with probably 14 hours a week and fuck. I don’t want to spiral into shit, I just want to keep busy as much as possible. Maybe I’ll ask for as many work hours as possible, maybe I’ll ask my friends to hang out, idk. Right now I jut want to be busy so I don’t have to think about anything. I’ll spend as much time as possible helping my dad set up his apartment, I don’t care.

WAAAAA TODAY AT WORK WAS SO STRESSFUL, I LEFT FELLNG SO FRAZZLED IT SUCKED. basically I worked register for 4 hours but they’re all trying to ween me off asking for help to get me more comfortable, and we were surprisingly busy, and my garden boss becky asked me to do 2 extra things and my boss boss kept asking about paperwork that I couldn't fill out because I needed my sister to text me something, and an old man got mad at me over the phone because no-one was out there to fill his propane tank and I had a lady waiting for 10 minutes for someone to help load salt into her car and a middle aged man tried to use sarcasm at me while I was in friendly cashier mode aND IM SORRY I HAVE ADHD I DONT GET IT PLEASE S T O P and I tried answering the phone more and I didnt get the things done that becky asked and I left shit there because I just wanteD OUT. afterwards I went to target to get something, idk im writing this afterwards so I not really remember

and today, my day off. ugh god I dont remember what I did, I know I picked up a vent for my mom’s bathroom and I just went to go get Taco Bell with my sister and bought her some more about crocheting and she’s making progress :) tomorrow is my friend’s birthday and last year I made her a felt doll of her fursona, so today I started making a crochet doll for her. so far I have the body and libs, but I still need to make the muzzle, tail, ears, attach everything, and hand-sew on all the markings and glue on button eyes. or maybe felt eyes, idk. my stomach hurts and I got upset because I told my mom my cat may be sick because her pee looked suspicious so I crocheted and watched my little pony and now I have a headache and im just trying to listen to music but really I just want to watch 50 arms videos at once but it wasn't loading right and idk man I dont know what’s happening, I may be going into work tomorrow. I think now that I have a job to do 3-4 times a week, I dont feel like I can just chill and wing it anymore, it’s like I have plans forever now. and oh god I still have to sig up for college orientation night or whatever, but my mind hasn'tt been on college for like a month or longer. I think im just going to take some Advil and try to relax with my cat and my music. holy shit dude. I know none’s gonna read this but just. fuck. also I should really post these more frequently rather than let them pile up in my texts. thinking about going back and adding all the dates like I did with my early quarantine diary, but that feels like a lot of work

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #may 2021 daily

2 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (17) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hey angels! thank u for ur patience, here is yet another chapter of the hellscape that is n19f. as i said on my blog, u will either love this chapter or hate it. either way let me know what u think!! this is a big chunky one at 13k (ik i’m treating u during this quarantine) so grab ur snacks and settle in. lots of love, byeee!

trigger warning: a little light drinking xo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Scarlet celebrated her birthday by helping Nina win back Monet, a surprise party organised by her girlfriend, and a suspiciously civil Brooke and Vanjie.

this chapter: from one birthday to another, the gang heads out to the country to celebrate Brooke and Akeria’s 22nd. everyone seems back on good terms, but will the combination of hide and seek, truth or dare, a hot tub and of course a lil bit of alcohol change anything?

***

“Holiday!...da-da-da-dum-dum-daaa, Celebrate!”

Brooke rolled her eyes, unable to help herself laughing as Nina rolled her suitcase towards Monet’s car. “It’s hardly a holiday, is it, girl? Overnighter in an airbnb in the middle of buttfuck nowhere?”

“Listen, I’ll take what I can get, thank you very much,” Nina raised her eyebrows, as Monet lifted the door of the boot up and Nina heaved her case inside.

“Oh, what a compliment,” Monet quipped from beside her, Brooke making a sick noise as Nina slid her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and gave her a squeeze.

“Not with girlfriends, obviously. You’re a Tesco Finest girlfriend. Not a smartprice girlfriend,” Nina explained, Monet smiling proudly and nuzzling their noses together. Brooke already wanted to vomit and she wasn’t even car sick yet.

“Pack it in, bitches, or Monet’s uninvited,” she deadpanned, pushing herself off the wall she was currently leaning against and looking up at her bedroom window, ignoring the girls’ shouts of indignation. “Right, have you got everything, yeah?”

“Have you seen the size of this bitch’s suitcase? I think she has literally managed to pack your kitchen sink,” Monet cocked an eyebrow at Nina, who elbowed her in the ribs. Nina produced her phone from the pocket of her dungaree dress.

“Hey Google, can you divorce your girlfriend?” she asked into the speaker, Monet howling a laugh and shoving her.

“Seriously, guys, I haven’t packed enough anti-sickness tablets for this,” Brooke said dryly, making her way to the passenger door.

“Oh, are you planning on recreating the great rail replacement bus fiasco of ‘18?” came a voice, Brooke turning round and narrowing her eyes at her smug flatmate, emerging through the door with her girlfriend and a small holdall bag.

“I was sat hungover opposite the toilet on a three hour coach journey, what the hell else was I expected to do?” Brooke defended herself. Yvie sat down on the wall outside their building, Scarlet joining her.

“Hmm, all I’ll say, Monet, is that I hope you have at least three empty plastic bags in the back seat with her,” she advised smugly, Brooke wishing she was still leaning against the wall so she could shove her off it.

“When is Plastique coming for you guys? Can I arrange for you to be sitting in the middle of the road when she drives up it?”

“Hey, what the fuck did I say?!” Scarlet yelped, outraged.

“You’re a bystander, Scarlet, and a bystander is worse than a bully,” Nina remarked sagely, Monet nodding along in support.

“Besides, I’m allowed to bully Brooke. It’s part of the lease,” Yvie shrugged, fixing the huge round sunglasses that had been on the top of her head and positioning them so they were right at the bridge of her nose. The March sunshine was welcome; it made Brooke feel happy, optimistic of things to come. Even the small scrub of grass out the front of their stairwell had bright purple, yellow and white bulbs poking through it, bringing a defiant sense of beauty to their surroundings. Brooke had been so pleased with the weather when she’d opened her curtains that morning that she’d packed a bunch of clothes she usually reserved for the summer. It felt odd wearing her denim skirt without the black tights she’d clad herself in for the past three months, but it was a welcome feeling. Yvie hadn’t really seemed to get the Summery memo other than her sunglasses- a huge knitted jumper covered in holes hung off her skinny frame and a pair of thick exercise leggings kept her legs warm.

“You couldn’t spruce yourself up a bit for my birthday, bitch? I feel like any minute now you’re going to start dancing around the street moulting straw singing about how you desperately want a brain,” Brooke smirked, Yvie simpering a fake smile and giving her the finger in response.

“It’s only fifteen degrees, Brooke, it’s hardly time to crack out the Kopparberg and blast T Shirt Weather yet,” Scarlet laughed. It was a bit hypocritical, Brooke thought as she looked Scarlet’s outfit up and down- a floaty, lacey dress and a pair of white Adidas- but of course she would defend her girlfriend. It wasn’t actually fair, contemplated Brooke. Scarlet and Yvie would always team up, so would Monet and Nina. Brooke had to fight all her battles herself.

“Besides, your birthday is over! Move on, hoe,” Yvie smiled, running forward and shaking Brooke’s shoulders relentlessly as the other girls laughed uproariously in the background. Brooke laughed and batted her away, knowing she was just joking. As she shoved her friend off of her, a familiar grey Audi drove up their street and pulled in behind Monet’s car. Plastique gave her horn a little beep, waving and rolling down her window.

“Let’s ride, bitches! I’m so ready for this weekend,” she squealed, as Yvie and Scarlet rushed to shove their bags in the boot of her car.

“I think I’ve been ready since we booked it,” Nina sighed, stretching. “Right, let’s go, girls! Dun-duun-da-na-na-dun dun.”

As Nina continued singing Shania Twain and hopped in the passenger seat of Monet’s car, Brooke passed by Plastique’s window and gave her hand a squeeze. “You know how to get there, yeah?”

“Up the motorway then off at junction 4 and then just follow all the signs for the B road. We good,” she nodded, then gave a laugh. “Kiki’ll probably end up in France somehow, you know what her sense of direction is like.”

“Yeah, but she’s got Silky and Vanj to direct her. She’ll be fine,” Brooke shrugged, thumping on Plastique’s door and making for the other car. “Right, see you ladies at the airbnb!”

Monet blasted her horn once, twice, three times as Brooke dashed into the back seat and buckled up. As Nina connected her phone to the aux cord and started blasting typically Nina-ish cheesy music, Brooke felt an excited little smile creep up on her face, slapping her hands against her thighs to the beat. The past almost-a-month had gone by quickly, and Brooke and Akeria’s shared birthday trip away had arrived before Brooke had known it. It had been booked on a whim, an excited message from Akeria on the group chat about a potential birthday night out had grown arms and legs until suddenly the girls were all transferring her money for a night in the country to jointly celebrate her and Brooke’s birthdays. They had turned 22 within ten days of each other, and the girls had all decided that the amount of money they would have spent on two big nights out- Ubers, big bottles of vodka for pres, club entry, club drinks and cheesy chips at the end of the night- probably equated to the same, if not more, than the amount they would drop on a boujie house in the country. The house they had booked was huge- five big bedrooms with floor to ceiling windows, a lounge straight out of a murder mystery drama with plush sofas, towering bookshelves and a massive roaring fire, a kitchen with a table big enough to fit them all round and an aga with what seemed to be a thousand burners- though whether anyone would know how to work the damn thing was anyone’s guess, Brooke thought with a snort. The icing on the cake of the whole place, though, was a huge section of outdoor decking with a hot tub set in the middle of it. To most of the girls it would be like living somebody else’s life for the weekend, but, Brooke thought mischievously, to Plastique it would probably seem the same as a weekend at home.

Brooke was glad they could all do something like this, go away together after what had happened. She didn’t really know what had happened to Vanessa to make her warm up to her so unexpectedly. It had all started when they were preparing for Scarlet’s birthday surprise; Brooke remembered how hard her heart had been beating that morning as she’d known it was the first time she’d be properly seeing Vanessa since they broke up, having to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans as the door to the kitchen had opened and Vanessa, Akeria and Silky had walked in. Akeria and Silky, to their credit, had been fine and normal with Brooke, despite the amount of dragging through the mud they had probably done to her name when they’d heard the news of her and Vanessa’s breakup. Vanessa, (understandably, thought Brooke) had hugged Yvie, Plastique and Nina, but not Brooke, the obviousness of the action lost in the frenetic melee of the girls seeing each other all at once. Brooke had preferred that, though. She wouldn’t have wanted the awkwardness of reminding herself how perfectly her arms seemed to fit around Vanessa, the brief scent of the Aussie shampoo she used in her hair, her head against her chest even for just the tiniest second.

After that, Vanessa had started with the digs. Brooke had thought she’d had malicious intent at first, until she got bored and decided to fire back.

(Yvie’s voice had yelled from the hallway. “Who’s made the cupcakes yet? Anyone?”

“Well if it’s Brooke, we all dyin’ tonight.”

“At least I can make something! How much do you drop on Deliveroo in a month, like, half your student loan?”)

With each verbal sparring match, Brooke had watched as the small, sardonic snorts Vanessa had given evolved into a full-blown beaming smile, the kind she always used to shoot Brooke’s way with the perfect white teeth and the tiny dimple and the little blush that hit her cheeks. It was almost painful knowing that Brooke had given up that smile. And that had been the moment. The moment that Brooke had finally admitted to herself what she’d been wanting to deny all this time- she deeply wished she hadn’t ended things with Vanessa, that she’d fought through the ick and given it at least more of a shot than she had. Now Vanessa had moved on and she was seeing someone else and she was happy. Happy without Brooke. Why had Brooke broken up with her so quickly?

She was an idiot.

“She was an idiot.”

Brooke snapped out of her trance, blinking and trying to figure out how Monet had managed to get inside her head. “What?”

“That woman. Blue car. Completely cut me off,” Monet rolled her eyes, frowning as she inched forward in the traffic until she was almost bumper to bumper with the car in question.

“Oh M'net, don’t start a fight,” Nina sighed, resting her knees against the glovebox.

“I’m not! I’m just letting a bitch know that her misconduct was noted,” Monet growled.

“Her misconduct was noted? God, you’re such a teacher,” Nina laughed, a big chuckle with loads of heart that made Brooke smile.

“Hey, so are you!”

“Stop fucking bickering or I will take your vocal cords and strangle you with them!” Brooke cried, tiring quickly. She watched Monet smirk in the rear view mirror.

“It’s alright, Neens. Just because Brooke’s jealous of happy couples and regrets breaking it off with Vanjie-”

“Wait what? I don’t…oh, Nina, for fuck’s sake! I told you not to tell anyone!” Brooke snapped, training accusatory eyes on her friend. After Scarlet’s birthday, she’d told Nina what she’d told Yvie, just in a little more detail, and she’d been more sympathetic than her other flatmate, making her tea and nodding understandingly as Brooke vented at her. Nina was usually good with secrets, a reliable and trustworthy friend. Brooke couldn’t understand why she would-

“Ahahaha!!! BITCH! You just totally exposed yourself! Oh my God!!” Monet screeched in time with her tyres, thumping her hand against the steering wheel. Brooke was confused, her heart still thudding. “Nina ain’t told me shit but I got eyes and ears, an’ I saw you two flirting at Scarlet’s. All damn day and night. You don’t act like that with someone you just broke up with.”

“Yeah I’m afraid you just spilled your own secret, Brooke,” Nina deadpanned from the passenger seat, giving a little laugh.

“Shit,” Brooke sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Great. Well, you probably think I’m a total asshole, Monet.”

“Hey, I’m a very chill person! You do you, girl. You wanna get with Vanessa for 3 months, break up with her for one and then get back with her again, that’s no business of mine,” Monet shrugged, a twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, I know I made a mistake, thanks,” Brooke sighed, biting her lip as she let her thoughts wash over her. Monet had a unique angle on the whole situation. She lived with Monique, of course, and that whole thing was still going on between her and Vanessa, if a message Vanessa had accidentally sent to the group chat last week was anything to go by. Brooke had wondered for days on end whether it had actually been an accident or not, the content of the message sending her crazy with jealousy as it was essentially just Vanessa begging Monique to come round and fuck her into the mattress. She’d considered whether or not it could have been deliberate, but the absolute roasting Vanessa had received afterwards from the other girls couldn’t have been worth it if it had. Brooke considered asking Monet for some inside knowledge, decided against it, and then did a U-turn as she concluded that her pride and dignity were already bruised so she might as well go the whole hog and shatter them.

“So, uh…Vanessa’s still seeing Monique.”

Monet ran her tongue over her teeth. “She’s certainly round at the flat a lot.”

“So is that, uh…I mean, do you think that’s going to turn into anything more, or…?”

“I don’t know, girl, I don’t know if it’s my place to say.”

This is like pulling teeth. “Do you think they-”

“They’re having a lot of sex.”

“Monet!” Nina burst out in a shocked laugh.

“What?! They are!”

“Excellent!” Brooke exclaimed sarcastically, staring out the window as the city around them turned into fields and the houses turned into service stations.

“C’mon, Brooke, you have to admit you do kinda deserve this a lil’ bit,” Monet laughed, Brooke rolling her eyes from the back seat.

“Right, both of you shut up. I’m officially banning any conversations about pining or relationships until we get to the house. We sing, we eat snacks, occasionally we play I Spy. That’s it,” Nina scolded them, turning around in her seat and staring Brooke down. Brooke had never felt more like a disgraced teenager in her life.

“Ughhhh, fine, Mom,” Monet groaned, changing up into fifth as they hit the motorway, the weekend becoming more real and making Brooke tingle with excitement despite the news she hadn’t wanted to hear.

Just as Nina had ordered them, the three girls spent the rest of the journey singing at the top of their lungs to Vengaboys, B*Witched and Cascada, Brooke on crisp duty as she passed the cavernous bag of barbecue rib McCoys forward every five minutes or so, Monet making hurried grabs at crinkle cut crisps in between changing gears. Brooke managed to avoid the dreaded travel-sickness that had plagued her since she was about six years old, much to Monet and Nina’s delight. The sun didn’t let up, and it still hung proudly in the sky as the girls pulled up the leafy, tree-lined driveway to the house they’d booked, the branches hanging low and curling around each other signalling they hadn’t been cut in a while. Spying Akeria’s Corsa and Plastique’s Audi already parked, Monet pulled up alongside the huge white house, the little set of three stone chimneys on the roof puffing out smoke and letting the girls know that at least one room wouldn’t be too cold inside. As Monet neatened up her parking, the sound of Silky’s screeching cut through the crunching of wheels against gravel, and the rest of the girls spilled out of the front door shortly afterwards. As soon as the car had stopped, Brooke excitedly hopped out of the passenger seat, hugging any girl she could reach. Before she knew it, she’d found herself pulling out of a quick hug with Vanessa, and the two were in front of each other.

“Hey,” Brooke decided quickly to speak first, setting the tone so there wouldn’t be any awkward pauses.

“Hey! How was your ride? Get here okay?” Vanessa asked politely, tucking a strand of her caramel hair behind one ear. She was dressed in a tiny little cropped black jumper and some faded grey jeans, Brooke trying to ignore her mind reminding her of how right it felt to wrap her arms around Vanessa again, how tiny her waist was and how much she wished she could go back for another hug- for fuck’s sake, cut that shit out.

“Uh, yeah! It was fine. Traffic wasn’t too bad. How about you?”

Vanessa let out a laugh. “Shit was like Wacky Races. Akeria nearly rammed some old cunt off the road. I’ve never seen road rage like it, we genuinely feared for our lives. Or her license. Oh my God, this house is insane. C’mon, you need to see it!”

There was a split-second where Brooke felt Vanessa tug at her hand, which was quickly dropped as if the action had never happened. It was almost as if Vanessa had been on automatic pilot; the ease with which she used to slip her hand into Brooke’s hadn’t been forgotten by either of them. And then Brooke felt Plastique leap onto her back like a monkey, and the girl was excitedly chattering away to her, and the moment had passed.

Brooke barely had time to take in the huge cream-painted hall with the varnished cream stairs stretching practically up to the ceiling when Plastique steered her down two steps and into the kitchen, grey stone tiles making Brooke’s feet feel cold even through her trainers and the huge wooden table overflowing with assorted snacks. Akeria and Scarlet clung to the rail of the AGA, the two girls clearly feeling the cold in the chilly kitchen.

“Did any of us actually bring a meal between us or are we just going to live off of Twirl Bites and Classic Dip Selections?” Yvie wondered, picking up a four-pack of various dips. Brooke laughed.

“Hey, there’s pizzas in the fridge! Do y’all really think I would let you starve?” Silky piped up, opening the huge fridge to reveal at least ten pizzas, more than they would eat in one night.

“Nobody goes hungry in the presence of Silky Nutmeg Ganache,” Plastique smiled proudly, holding her fist out for Silky to punch. As the girls’ fists connected, Brooke watched as Vanessa scraped a wooden chair out against the stone floor.

“You girls wanna have a munch and then get wrecked?”

“Hmm, if we get drunk too early then there’s no way we’ll be able to work this oven,” Scarlet shrugged, biting her lip and frowning.

“Yeah, we’re gonna struggle to operate this sober,” Monet considered, opening up one of the oven doors and investigating.

“Well how about we snack and then play a game? I wanna play hide and seek in here,” Nina bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. Akeria snorted.

“Hide and seek, you’re such a child. But to be fair, that could be fun. Or sardines.”

“What’s that?” asked Brooke. “I don’t know if we had that but called it something else.”

“That one where one person hides and everyone else seeks,” Yvie explained. “It’s way better. Way more chaotic.”

“Sweet. I’m down,” Brooke shrugged. She was glad that all of the girls she was friends with were happy to dick about and play kids’ games for an afternoon, and it was the kind of thing she’d miss when she graduated and would have to find a job.

The girls were all feeling peckish after their long drive, though, so they all grabbed the nearest snacks they could and headed upstairs to the living room, where Akeria had managed to start the fire which was crackling warmly in the huge marble fireplace. They all dumped their food on the huge glass-topped coffee table and had a little explore around the house before they relaxed. There was a surplus of bedrooms, and it had been agreed that since they were celebrating Brooke and Akeria’s birthdays, the two girls should have a bedroom to themselves each. Brooke’s bedroom had a huge bay window out to the rear of the house where the fields stretched for miles, and an actual four-poster bed.

“I can’t help but feel like you guys should take this room and I should take yours,” Brooke said with a pang of guilt for Yvie and Scarlet, who had dumped their things in the room they were sharing and had come to investigate Brooke’s.

Scarlet made a noise of discouragement. “No, it’s fine! This’ll get cold anyway, it’s so big. Our room’s cosier.”

Brooke watched Scarlet share a smile with her girlfriend and wrap both of her arms around Yvie’s. “Yeah, honestly, Brooke, it’s fine. Scarlet would manage to bump her head and toe and Christ knows what else on all four of the posts anyway.”

Scarlet burst out into offended laughter, letting the girls know that she secretly agreed a little bit.

“How’re the others?” Brooke asked, peering down the little corridor with the exposed wooden beams and hearing chatter and Monet’s deep laughter coming from the other rooms.

“Plastique, Silk and Vanj are all in together. I think V drew the short straw so she’s on the sofa bed,” Scarlet gave a shrug.

“That’s unfortunate,” Yvie commented, raising her eyebrows at Brooke slightly.

“Behave,” Brooke smacked her, not appreciating the implication. Vanessa had only just become friends with her again. They were hardly going to spend the entire night going at it like rabbits just because Vanessa wasn’t looking at her like she wanted to kill her anymore. “Come on, lovebirds. I feel like I haven’t shovelled enough crisps down my throat today.”

The three girls made their way to the living room again, where Nina and Monet were draped over the sofa and snacking on some sort of jelly sweets. Gradually the other girls joined them in drips and drabs and they spent the time chatting and gossiping in their usual way- about anything and everything under the sun. Brooke kept finding her eyes being drawn to Vanessa. It wasn’t entirely her fault- she was sitting opposite her, and often Brooke would find her already looking her way. Although that could have just been Brooke’s imagination. God, she didn’t even know anymore.

“Right!” Nina cried, as everyone looked dangerously close to slipping into a snack-induced coma. “Sardines time!”

“Kiki should hide first, it’s her birthday!” Silky argued immediately, Brooke only the tiniest bit affronted.

“Hey, hey, it’s Brooke’s birthday too. Also, I feel like y’all are way more enthusiastic than me about this, so I really don’t mind.”

“Brooke hides first!” Nina shouted unnecessarily. Brooke stood up from the sofa and rolled her eyes.

“Wait, so everyone is after me? Christ. This is like that nightmare I had about being on Hunted.”

“Good luck tryna squeeze that Jolly Green Giant-ass body into any of these cupboards, bitch!” Vanessa yelled across the room to uproarious laughter, Brooke turning round in time to see Vanessa stick her tongue out at her.

“Oh, like you can talk! Are you not the same size as an actual Subway sandwich?” Brooke bit back, sticking her tongue out right back and feeling an excited fizz in her stomach as she caught Vanessa blushing slightly as she laughed. As the other girls joined in with the mocking and all piled on each other, Brooke spotted two girls who weren’t laughing- Akeria and Silky were looking at each other knowingly, a look that seemed to convey disapproval. What the hell was their problem? If Vanessa was fine with her, then that meant there was no reason for the two of them to hold a grudge either, right?

Brooke frowned, trying not to read too much into it. She turned around and headed out the door. “Okay, count to 100 then, bitches!”

As she heard the others all start chanting descending numbers like a terrifying cult of mathematicians, Brooke began dashing around the house for a place to hide. She ran past the bedrooms, assuming that the others would check there straight away. Brooke considered going behind the porch door, but then thought that might end up being too obvious. She found herself in the kitchen, and to her delight she noticed a huge wooden door set into the wall that had to be a cupboard. Opening it, she saw what looked to be a pantry- shelves and shelves with only a couple of tins left by other guests at the house. It was good, but Brooke didn’t think it was a particularly great place to hide until she spotted another door at the very end of the pantry- slightly smaller with a little circular handle. As Brooke turned it, she was confronted with a tiny dark room, with only the blinking lights of the boiler that sat inside to illuminate it.

Perfect.

As Brooke hopped in, she could hear the blood roaring in her ears and her heart thumping. She wanted to giggle. This was exactly how it had felt to play hide and seek when she was little, and she couldn’t believe she was a grown-ass twenty-two year old still feeling the same way. Hell, she couldn’t believe she was a grown-ass twenty-two year old playing hide and seek. Gradually, she began to hear the sound of footsteps thundering above her, the old ceiling creaking and letting Brooke know the girls were on their way. Then, it all went silent for a while. Brooke breathed out heavily. Just then, she heard the door to the pantry open and one set of footsteps shuffle through it. They dashed to the end of the room and then seemed to be satisfied that there was nothing more to investigate- until Brooke heard them do what seemed to be a double-take. Keeping her breathing silent, Brooke stood frozen to the spot as she saw the door gradually open with a long, murder-mystery style creaaak…

Shit.

Vanessa stood at the doorframe to the cupboard, a shit-eating grin on her face. “I’ve been tellin’ Yvie I’m the best at hide and seek, but she ain’t believe me. What’d that take me, two minutes?”

“Yeah, good job, Poirot,” Brooke smirked, although it was hiding a multitude of nerves. Her and Vanessa, stuck in a tight, dark space together until the other girls found them. This was fine. This would be fine. “Right come on then, girl, you need to get in.”

“Fuck no, I ain’t goin’ in there! That’s a straight-up spiders’ nest, fuck that.”

“Just get in!” Brooke grabbed her gently but firmly by the wrist and dragged her inside, closing the door behind them. It was entirely dark except for the small strip of light where the door met the doorframe, which illuminated Vanessa’s hair and collarbones. There was a small beat of silence in which Brooke’s eyes adjusted to the darkness again, and when her vision had settled she could see Vanessa smiling at her cheekily. “What?”

“There’s a spider in your hair.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “No there’s not.”

“There is! A big one. It’s some Harry Potter type shit, I swear.”

“Shut up, Vanessa, I’m not falling for that shit,” Brooke snorted a laugh, squashing the unease that began to creep up on her.

“It’s got, like, a billion eyes.”

“Has it.”

“An’ forty legs,” Vanessa bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck kind of biology classes did you go to? A spider with forty leg- JESUS!” Brooke all at once cut herself off, feeling a movement at her shoulder, her hair flicking against her neck slightly. She gave herself such a jolt that it felt like whiplash, and she watched as Vanessa laughed at her brushing wildly against her shoulder. Brooke was confused when her hand connected with another hand. Vanessa’s hand. How the hell she’d managed to reach up there without Brooke’s notice was anyone’s guess, but she’d certainly done what she’d set out to do. Brooke launched herself forward and squeezed a hand at Vanessa’s waist, laughing as the other girl screeched in response. The two girls descended into giggles, Brooke having to fend off Vanessa’s playful swipes as she berated her.

“Shut up, bitch! You’re going to get us caught!” Brooke laughed, grabbing one of Vanessa’s wrists in each hand. Suddenly, both girls paused, the compromising position they were in dawning on both of them. The memory of when she used to pin Vanessa to the bed with both her wrists and kiss her neck shot through Brooke’s mind like a hot iron, unwanted and welcome all at once. In the darkness, she could see Vanessa’s single raised eyebrow.

“You telling me you don’t wanna get caught?” she murmured, her voice low and making the atmosphere charged and thick with something that hadn’t been there before. Brooke squeezed her thighs together. This couldn’t turn into something else. She couldn’t let it.

“Well, that is the whole point of the game,” Brooke said, trying to inject as much level-headedness into her tone as she was able. To her dismay she watched as Vanessa’s eyes took on a dark twinkle.

“Oh, right, uh-huh. The game. Sure,” she smirked, Brooke only able to laugh in response because that way she wasn’t saying anything. This situation was fucked. It was so weird. Vanessa was flirting with her, unprompted. So what did this mean? That she still liked Brooke? That she wanted to be friends and was just playing? What did this mean for her and Monique? They couldn’t be that serious, then, if Vanessa was doing all this? Or maybe they’d fallen out and Vanessa wanted her to be jealous? But what was the point of making somebody jealous who wasn’t here? What if her and Monique were together and Vanessa was cheating? What if-

“AYYYYYY FUCKIN’ HOES! Yes! I’m shit-hot at this game, Jesus!” Silky threw the door open, screeching her head off and sending every thought that Brooke was overthinking into the stratosphere.

“Stop yellin’ bitch, and get in!” Vanessa laughed. As Silky squeezed into the ever-decreasing-in-space cupboard, Brooke felt her throat almost close up as Vanessa shuffled up against her to make more room, tilting her head up, locking eyes with Brooke and sending her a look that she couldn’t decipher before looking away and whispering to Silky.

They were eventually found by the other girls- namely because there was no space at all once Scarlet arrived so Plastique found half of the girls with one toe in the cupboard and the rest of their bodies outside of it. The game carried on, but Brooke’s head wasn’t properly in it. She would deliberately put in the bare minimum effort when she was looking for the girls because, really, she wouldn’t know what to do if she was stuck in another confined space with Vanessa. Why had it turned so weird before? All flirty and edged with something she couldn’t work out. It wasn’t right- Vanessa was meant to be mad at her, meant to hate her and never want to speak to her again and somehow they’d gone from civil, to nearly-friends, to eye-fucking each other in a boiler cupboard in the space of a month?

The encounter was still playing on Brooke’s mind as she got ready for dinner. The girls had all decided that they would “do a Love Island” (in the words of Akeria) and all get glammed up to sit in the living room and play games after they’d eaten. It felt funny to be putting on a dress, heels and fake lashes without the possibility of going out anywhere, but the methodical process of putting on her makeup was a welcome distraction from the swirling thoughts in Brooke’s head.

“Ayo,” came an unexpected voice, causing Brooke to flinch a little and drop the lipgloss she’d been applying moments before. Looking behind her in the mirror she saw it was just Yvie and Nina. Usually she’d have been happy to see them, but right now she was doing too much overthinking and couldn’t let on what had happened earlier between her and Vanessa. So Brooke just stuck on her best fake smile as she turned around to face them.

“Hey! You guys look so good,” she complimented them, Nina smiling and Yvie giving a little snort.

“Well I didn’t want to be accused of not making an effort for your birthday again,” she poked her tongue out at Brooke and tugged a little at the beads on the hem of her short gold dress.

“If you trip in those heels I hope you know that’s, like, instant paralysis,” Brooke commented, looking at the spikes of Yvie’s six inch stilettos. When the girl did glam, she did glam, Brooke had to give it to her.

“As if Yvie needs to be any taller than she already is,” Nina laughed playfully.

“Awh, she needs to be tall so she can look down on her smol bean uwu girlfriend,” Brooke teased, Nina continuing to giggle and Yvie giving an amused roll of her eyes.

“What’s up with you anyway, bitch? You’ve been, like, extra bitter around all the couples today. It’s supposed to be your birthday, cheer the fuck up,” Yvie gave her a little nudge with her foot. Brooke frowned. She didn’t think she had been being bitter, but maybe Yvie was right. Fuck, what had she even said today? Brooke hoped that Vanessa hadn’t noticed anything.

“No, that’s not true. I’m fine! Just…” Brooke sighed, the bingo-hall-style tombola spinning rapidly in her head to generate an excuse. “…exams are soon, you know, and I’ve not started revising yet-”

“Oh my God, bitch, they’re in May! This is March! Chill the hell out,” Yvie laughed, pulling Brooke up from her position on the floor by the long mirror in the corner of her room. “Let’s go eat pizza. If Monet and Plastique have worked out how to cook them in that 1920s horror oven.”

As Yvie excitedly strutted out of the room and Brooke made to join her, Nina reached out to squeeze her hand.

“You’re a crap liar, Brooke Lynn Hytes,” she hissed quietly, Brooke rolling her eyes and making to protest when Nina spoke again. “But I won’t push it. I just wish you’d open the fuck up more.”

Brooke felt guilty. “I just don’t…it’s something I don’t want to overthink, Nina. So the best way you can help is helping me stuff myself full of carbs then pouring a 24 pack of San Miguel down my throat.”

Nina nodded understandingly as they reached the top of the stairs, Brooke holding back a snort as she watched Yvie cling to the bannister for dear life as she descended. Nina gave her hand another squeeze, then dropped it. “I can do that. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Brooke shyly looked down at her short, black one-shoulder dress and smoothed it down. “Thanks, babe.”

Nina’s smile suddenly turned scheming. “And so does Vanessa.”

Before Brooke could protest, Nina was bounding down the stairs in her bright white Filas that she’d paired with her blue and white checked dress. It wasn’t as formal as Brooke’s or Yvie’s, but that was the beauty of having a glam night in a big house where it was just them- nobody could judge you for being over or underdressed.

As Brooke followed her flatmates into the kitchen, she was met with the sight of her friends all happy, chatting, and in their best outfits. Annoyed at herself, she found her eyes darting around to find Vanessa. She wanted to know why Nina had said what she’d said, wanted to know if she was just winding her up.

And then her eyes came to rest on the most gorgeous version of Vanessa she’d ever seen, and her anxiety dipped, did a loop, then spiked. They were both in black- some dumb coincidence that the earth had sent her way, no doubt- but Vanessa’s was shiny, a vinyl dress that clung to her as if it was made of latex and painfully highlighted every curve of her body. She’d paired it with red heels, which had straps that snaked their way up her calves and showcased her perfect skin. Her dark hair had been blow-dried out (probably by Akeria, Brooke guessed) and fell in perfect waves down her back and over her shoulders (had she fucking highlighted her collarbones?). Her makeup was, as usual, perfect, a dark shock of eyeshadow and an indecent red on her lips causing Brooke’s heart to race. The worst part, though, about the whole outfit, was the silver zip that ran from the top of the dress to the bottom, right in the middle at the front, and either Vanessa (or someone mucking about with her…probably Silky) had unzipped it just the tiniest amount. For about the hundredth time that month, Brooke cursed herself for breaking things off with Vanessa. It wasn’t just about her looks though, or her body, or how much she missed the sex. Their interaction in the cupboard made Brooke remember how funny Vanessa was, how much of an endearing goofball, how she was just a cheerful person whose only real wish in life was to be properly happy. And Brooke had hurt her, made her the exact opposite of that. Vanessa loved everything and everyone so deeply, was the most open of books, and was so unafraid of feeling. Meanwhile there was Brooke not even able to tell her own flatmates, the two girls that knew her best in the world, about her own feelings.

As she watched Vanessa’s eyes drift from Scarlet and Monet, who she’d been talking to, across the room to rest on her, Brooke felt her heart stop. Not giving a single thing away, Vanessa smiled, gave a little wave, and crossed the room to where Brooke stood.

“Hey!” she began, so confident and self-assured and making Brooke feel more like a trashbag than she already did. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks!” Brooke smiled, uncharacteristically flustered at the tiny compliment. “You look so beaud!”

Fuck. Brooke kicked herself for getting tongue tied, badly hoping Vanessa wouldn’t have noticed. As she watched a confused smile appear on her face, Brooke realised she’d have to explain herself. “I was going to say beautiful, then I changed it to good and they just sort of…mushed together.”

Brooke felt her face grow hot as Vanessa simply raised an eyebrow in a smirk. “I’ll take both. Beautiful and good.”

Just as Brooke was about to defend herself, Silky announced to the girls in her own Silky-esque way that the pizzas were ready, and, giving a cry of delight, Vanessa had dashed across the room and left Brooke forgotten about.

As they all ate, Brooke fought an internal battle. She had absolutely no right to feel sorry for herself, this mess was entirely of her own making. Besides, she had to put everything out of her head now; she had made her decision, Vanessa had moved on, and she had to let the whole thing drop. But despite all this, it didn’t stop her brain constantly pestering her with what-ifs.

It was still pestering her once they’d all finished their dinner and moved upstairs into the huge living room for drinks and games, so she was glad when Nina popped herself down beside her with two ice cold bottles of beer from the fridge.

“One for each hand,” she explained. Brooke burst out laughing. She fucking loved Nina so much.

“Where’s yours?”

“Monet’s making mojitos for me and her. I love having a girlfriend, it’s like a sexy butler that you get to have sex with and cuddle any time you want,” Nina mused wistfully, giving Brooke her second belly-laugh in the space of two minutes. As she composed herself, Monet came into the room with two huge tall glasses overflowing with crushed ice and garnished with lime and mint.

“Where the fuck did you get mint and limes?” Brooke asked, screwing her face up in confusion then scrambling to pull a slightly more attractive one as Vanessa came in flanked by Silky and Akeria.

“I brought them, bitch! Anyway what did I miss?”

“Nina called you a sexy butler,” Brooke said casually, sipping one of her two beers and smiling as she watched Nina grow flustered.

“Jesus Christ, I’m getting all the compliments today! First I was a Tesco Finest girlfriend, now I’m a sexy butler. You know how to treat a lady, Neens,” Monet teased, pulling her girlfriend in and smothering her with kisses on the cheek.

“Ugh, get that couple shit outta here,” Vanessa yelled from the other sofa, throwing a leftover crisp at them. Monet instantly snapped back.

“Uh, like you can talk, Vanj.”

“What the shit hell is that meant to mean?” Vanessa laughed, amused.

Akeria grew outraged as she turned around to face Vanessa, her long, straight hair swinging wildly as she flipped it over her shoulder. “NEED we remind you what you sent to the group chat last week?!”

Silky began yelling, mirroring the cries of woe and dismay that were circling through Brooke’s brain at being reminded that Monique was still very much in the picture. “NO we do NOT need reminded! I can’t go through that again, dear Jesus God…”

“Fuck babygirl, I need that mouth on me-” Akeria began reading dramatically from her screen, the girls cringing and laughing and every word feeling like a kick to Brooke’s gut as Vanessa, face bright red, wrestled with Akeria to get the phone out of her hands. “-I’m touching myself but you know it’s not the same- aw, V! Give it back!”

“I’m gonna eat this fuckin’ phone, Akeria Chanel Davenport, I swear,” Vanessa chided her furiously, holding the phone out of her reach then relenting, giving it back to her. Silky fanned herself dramatically, making the others laugh. As Brooke did her best fake laugh and joined in, she tried not to make eye contact with Vanessa’s embarrassed face.

“Aw, are we talking about the unfortunate dirty text incident?” Plastique’s voice came from the hall, everyone laughing again as she sat down in the armchair beside the fire. “Seriously, V, you should be a songwriter. I swear that whole thing could’ve been from a Kamille song or some shit-”

“Well, all sexts are a little bit cringey, aren’t they?” Nina offered kindly, attempting to cheer Vanjie up. In doing this, she only succeeded in earning herself an exasperated cry from Monet.

“V, do you wanna go out? I can’t stand this bitch any more, she just keeps insulting me.”

As everyone howled with laughter and Nina frantically smothered her girlfriend in kisses trying to get her back onside, Brooke sneaked a look at Vanessa. She was laughing, but her face was still a little red. Christ, she looked so cute. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“Speaking of sex, I’m assuming Yvie and Scarlet went off to bang?” Plastique shrugged, everyone finally realising who was missing.

“Oh, fuck this! Save that shit for later!” Silky protested, Akeria laughing and whacking her.

“Hey, let them be happy! It’s my birthday so I’m sayin’ if they want to fuck, let ‘em. In the meantime I have an empty wine bottle and a room full of girls with secrets that need spilled,” Akeria announced. Plastique clapped excitedly, Silky cheered and Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“For Christ’s sake, Kiki, do we not already know all there is to know about each other?” she complained. Interesting. So Vanessa didn’t want to play truth or dare, a game she was usually always down for.

“Excuse the fuck outta me, we played that stupid tuna game earlier!”

“Sardines,” Brooke deadpanned, earning herself a laugh from the room.

“It was some type of fish, I got that much right.”

“How are you through a whole bottle of wine already?” Silky asked, impressed.

“Can I live? It’s my birthday! Now will you hoes stop pissing in my cereal and let’s play!” Akeria implored, setting the wine bottle down against the red carpet and spinning it so violently Brooke worried that it would smash on the marble grate. It slowed, turning round and round and finally resting right back at where Akeria leant down from the sofa. She let out a giggle. “Oops. Guess it’s me.”

“Keeks, truth or dare!” Plastique asked excitedly. Akeria tilted her head, deep in thought.

“Hmm. I ain’t drunk enough for dares yet, so let’s go truth.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone racked their brains to think of something. Monet was first with an idea.

“Fuck, marry, kill: Silk, Vanj or…uh…”

“Asia,” Vanessa said simply, sipping some coke and spirit concoction through a straw as Silky let out a screech. Brooke was confused. She met her eyes with Nina’s, who looked equally baffled.

“Wait, who’s Asia?” Nina asked. Akeria, to her credit, looked composed. To be fair, Brooke had hardly ever seen her look anything but.

“She’s a friend from my course. We did a paired project together an’ she came over to the flat to work on it the other week,” Vanessa shrugged. “Her an’ Kiki seemed to hit it off.”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ crush on the girl, Jesus. Don’t make it weird,” Akeria rolled her eyes, blinking slowly. If Brooke squinted she might’ve spotted a flush to Akeria’s face, but perhaps that came from the glow of the fire.

Monet muttered under her breath to Brooke and Nina as the three flatmates bickered away. “Is Akeria gay?”

Brooke blew out a bunch of air. “Fuck, I don’t even know who’s what anymore.”

“She’s never classed herself as straight,” Nina elaborated cautiously. “She talks about getting dicked down by guys a lot. Then again, it’s really only Silky that does that and Keeks just joins in.”

“Silk and Vanj know something we don’t,” Brooke reasoned, watching as the two girls laughed and Akeria sat, poised and smirking at them indulgently as if they were kids.

“Right, enough! ‘Keria, fuck marry kill: Vanjie, Silk or Asia, then,” Monet shrugged, sipping her mojito.

Akeria flipped some hair over her shoulder and tilted her head to the sky thoughtfully. “I honestly can’t decide who I’d rather kill, Silk or Vanj.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna fuck or marry Asia, correct?” Vanessa quipped, a little fire igniting in Brooke’s heart as she watched a wicked smile spread across her scheming face.

“No, I don’t know her well enough to have any strong feelings towards her either way. You and Silk, however…” Akeria raised her eyebrows long-sufferingly, coaxing a laugh out of the other girls. “Uhh, right, marry Asia, or whatever. Kill Silky.”

“Bitch! I’ll kill you for real,” Silky objected, pummeling Akeria’s arm with a cushion.

“Fuck Vanj because she likes girls anyway and if she’s going down on me it means she’s not talking with that fuckin’ gritter-truck voice of hers,” Akeria shrugged as she concluded, the room cheering and Vanessa doing a little celebratory bow. As she flipped her head up she caught Brooke’s eye, giving her a little wink. Brooke crossed her legs and tried not to think about Vanessa going down on anyone. Least of all her.

“Aight!” Akeria said, indicating to everyone that her turn was well and truly over. “We move.”

The bottle was spun once more, Brooke taking a long drink out of her bottle and draining it. She needed to be tipsier than this. Everyone else seemed a little more drunk than she was, apart from Vanessa who she noted was sipping her drink sparingly. Brooke shook her head a little, trying to stop bringing her focus to Vanessa every five minutes. She’d taken her heels off and tucked her legs up underneath her on the sofa, and her thighs looked good for it.

“Plastique, truth or dare!”

Plastique tucked her hair behind her ears. “Uhh, dare.”

Brooke knew what to do for this one. Plastique had taken Ariel on a couple of dates, but the girls were emotionally stunted and neither of them had properly articulated their feelings to the other yet. “Call Ariel and tell her how you feel about her. Properly.”

As the other girls “oooh"ed in appreciation, Plastique fixed Brooke with an unimpressed glare. "I’m not doing that.”

“Pussy,” Brooke shrugged, sipping her other beer. Vanessa let out a laugh from the other side of the room.

“Brooke Lynn’s telling someone else they’re a pussy for not being open about their feelings? Are we in the correct universe?"

As the other girls gave a laugh that was only the slightest bit uncomfortable, Brooke rolled her eyes. "Okay, well at the very least send her a heartfelt text.”

“Why are you pushing this so much, ma?” Plastique pouted as she relented and reached for her phone.

“Because I’m bored of sitting in lectures hearing you moan about how you can’t tell her how you feel because it would make it weird or how you don’t want to come across too intense!"

"We all had to listen to you pine after Vanjie for two and a half years but we never forced you into admitting anything,” Plastique shrugged, the room erupting into shrieks. Brooke gave a choke of a laugh, wanting the ground to open up and swallow her. She knew her face was bright red without having to look in a mirror and, as much as her brain was imploring her not to, she found her eyes darting quickly to Vanessa to catch a glimpse of her face.

Calm, smiling tight-lipped and smug. As if she’d won something.

“No, but you did start a sweepstake about us so get off the high horse, thanks!” Brooke sing-songed back, the slight hint of irritation to her voice letting Plastique know she was to drop it. Us. The word felt weird in Brooke’s mouth, it hadn’t been used in so long. Two and a half years. Had she really liked Vanessa for that long before everything had happened between them? Brooke had actually thrown away two and a half years of feelings for the sake of one feeling of indecision, a feeling that maybe they shouldn’t have been a they any more?

For Christ’s sake don’t look at Vanessa.

“Fine. I’ve put tonight’s really fun but I miss you, I always miss you when you’re not with me, hope you know how much I care about you. That heartfelt enough for you bitches?” Plastique muttered, embarrassed. Nina let out an “aaw”, Akeria made a sick noise.

“Acceptable,” Brooke shrugged, sipping on her beer again. Suddenly, a cheer went up from Akeria, Vanessa and Silky who could see who was coming through the living room door first. Yvie and Scarlet were walking close, holding a glass of red wine each and wearing matching poker faces.

“Oh, here they are! Nice of you to finally join us!” Nina cheered, Scarlet giving a small smile and smoothing her dress down, sitting beside Yvie on the last remaining couch.

“All the best people are fashionably late!” she shrugged. Yvie gave a snort and swept some hair over her shoulder to cover her neck. Brooke saw the action and jumped on it.

“Nice neckwear.”

Yvie turned only slightly red. “Thanks. Gucci.”

“Hear that? Yvie’s girlfriend is Gucci. Not Tesco Finest. Gucci,” Monet nudged Nina, setting another laugh off amongst the girls.

“We’re playing truth or dare,” Brooke explained to the two girls, as Plastique gave the glass bottle a bit of a pathetic spin.

“Vanjie!”

Vanessa shook her head. “Nah that spin was shit, it don’t count.”

“Like hell it don’t! Truth or dare, bitch?” Silky all but interrogated her. Vanessa thought about it for a moment, then decided.

“Truth.”

Brooke’ heart hammered in her chest. She hoped to God they wouldn’t ask Vanessa anything about her, anything about them.

“What’s going on with you and Monique, Vanjie?” Monet asked dramatically, Akeria giving a cry of delight and thumping her hands against her thighs.

Great.

As the room broke out into eager laughter, Vanessa just smiled.

“Well, Monique and I are good friends, and…we get on well. We both been, y'know, unlucky in love a lil’, so…” Vanessa trailed off, the room giving little chokes of anticipation and Brooke’s stomach twisting. “…if it’s one in the morning and one of us is maybe still up…y'know…”

Monet gave a tiny squeal through her teeth. Brooke wanted to wedge herself in between the sofa cushions and not emerge again til May of next year.

“Y'know, Monique’s very confident, very sure of herself, an’ that's…y'know, it’s attractive…” Vanessa trailed off, running her tongue over her teeth. Brooke knew that face, remembered the time when that face used to get directed at her before they’d fall into bed together, frantic kisses planted along collarbones and clothes discarded over the uneven floorboards of Vanessa’s room.

“But what’s actually going on? You’ve said so much but not actually said anything,” Yvie let out an unimpressed laugh. Vanessa composed herself and sat up straight, taking a rare sip of her drink.

“Well, we get on well. She’s a good person. And we’re friends,” Vanessa smiled coyly, causing the girls to laugh uproariously.

“Okay, okay, we all see it! We all get it!” Monet laughed, the knife twisting in Brooke’s stomach. Could it have been more obvious that they were obviously having each other in every type of position imaginable with any chance they got, or was it just Brooke being paranoid? She thought back to what Monet had said in the car earlier and concluded that, occasional hits of the bong aside, she was not being paranoid by any stretch of the imagination.

The game rolled along. Nina was made to do something vague and embarrassing with Monet that Brooke forgot quickly (or perhaps blocked out), Scarlet was forced to admit (rather proudly, Brooke thought) that her and Yvie had quickly fucked upstairs in the time they’d been away, and a few other of the girls did a couple of bland truths. As much as the bottle spun and spun, it never seemed to point Brooke’s way. Brooke was glad. She didn’t want to admit or say anything, and she also didn’t want to do anything remotely risky. However, when the bottle landed on Vanessa a second time, Brooke began to reconsider her thought process.

“Dare,” Vanessa smiled, a glint of danger in her eye flashing quickly as she darted her eyes quickly to Brooke.

Brooke tried not to look at Nina as she spoke. “Vanjie. Kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Plastique whispered quietly. It seemed as if the whole room held its breath. Brooke didn’t know if she was grateful to Nina for the setup or whether she wanted to descend into the earth’s core. She knew Vanessa had answered this question before with this group of girls, she knew that Vanessa thought the answer was her. But that was before everything had changed. Brooke felt her pulse race as Vanessa looked to the ceiling, deep in thought.

Slowly, she turned her gaze to Yvie and Scarlet.

“Yvie,” she began, a small sinking feeling lodging itself in Brooke’s chest. “Can I kiss your girlfriend?”

Yvie smiled at Scarlet proudly, happy for the compliment. “Dare’s a dare. Bring her back.”

“Scarlet, can I get a lil’ smooch?” Vanessa laughed, Scarlet laughing back and motioning for her to sit beside them on the sofa.

“C'mere, friend,” she laughed easily, Vanessa crossing the room and joining them. Brooke remembered when Vanessa had kissed Scarlet before- in the nightclub, before they were together and before Yvie and Scarlet were together. She remembered how it made her feel- a little irritated and sad all in one. Looking back, she realised it was plain and simple jealousy, and she knew her feelings weren’t going to change this time.

Quickly, Vanessa leaned in and met Scarlet’s lips, kissing her gently but slowly, her hand resting on Scarlet’s hip easily. It could only have been about three seconds long, but each one seemed to tick by agonisingly slowly, and Brooke hoped she wasn’t showing any of her fucked-up emotions on her face. As the two girls pulled away and the others whooped and whistled, Scarlet made a face.

“Bitch, all I tasted there was pepperoni. That was the least sexy kiss I’ve ever had.”

“You loved it, hoe!” Vanessa laughed, retreating back to her seat. Desperate to look at anything but Vanessa’s face, Brooke watched Yvie and Scarlet. Yvie had the satisfied grin of a mafia mob boss as Scarlet whispered something in her ear, then smiled seductively, kissing her once, twice, three times, red lipstick meeting purple.

“Well if I wasn’t bi before, I sure as hell am now,” Plastique fanned herself.

“We are the cornerstone of Plastique’s sexual identity. That’s a fucking compliment!” Scarlet cheered, Yvie laughing and wrapping her arms around her.

“Nah, you and Yvie are my parents. The Mums of the group,” Plastique explained.

“Fuck off, we’re not the Mums!” Yvie laughed, outraged. “Nina and Monet are literally right there!”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Nina cried, outraged at the perceived injustice.

“Yeah, don’t lump me in with this dork!” Monet yelled, laughing with the other girls as Nina swatted her on the arm.

“Right! Spin, Vanj,” Yvie ordered, the girl spinning the bottle round obediently. Brooke watched as the top of the bottle whizzed by her once, twice, three times, past Yvie, Scarlet, the Antigua Road girls, slowed down as it reached Plastique, edged past Monet and Nina and then came to rest on Brooke.

“All RIGHT! About time this bitch spilt some tea,” Silky clapped in delight.

“Brooke,” Akeria said with the threat level of an MI5 employee. “Truth or dare?”

Brooke paused. Her go-to was usually a truth, however there was no way she was going for that this time, not while she was still a concrete mixer of feelings for Vanessa and not while there was a room full of people wanting to know exactly what was going on with them. She shrugged. “Dare.”

“Okay-” Akeria tailed off, making to stop and think. A practically evil smile spread across her face as realisation dawned on her. “Same dare. Kiss the hottest person in the room. Ten seconds.”

Silky let out a scream, growing so excitable on the sofa that Vanessa was almost sent through the ceiling. Scarlet whispered something to Yvie on the sofa, both of the girls looking at Brooke intently. Plastique shouted over something to Akeria that Brooke couldn’t hear. All she could focus on was how Vanessa had grabbed Silky and was laughing, but somewhat nervously. Her face had gone bright red. Brooke bit her lip. She thought back to their flirting in the cupboard earlier, how they were almost back to square one again, the weird bid Vanessa had made to make Brooke jealous. She could always kiss Yvie or Nina, take the easy way out. But the more she looked at Vanessa, the more drawn she became to her until before she knew what she was doing, Brooke had stood up from her place on the carpet and taken one, two, three steps to sit on the couch and look Vanessa in the eyes.

Brooke could hear everyone in the room screaming, and she knew Silky had run out of the room shouting incoherently, but all she seemed to hear was her blood roaring in her ears as Vanessa leaned in. Before she knew it, Brooke’s hand was resting on Vanessa’s bare thigh and they were kissing each other, slow and deep and lazy and in a way that Brooke never wanted to end. She felt Vanessa’s tongue licking at hers gently and immediately felt a throb of heat between her legs as she remembered 3ams spent between her sheets and Vanessa’s head buried between her thighs.

Christ, this was a bad idea, this was a bad idea-

“ZERO! And y’all can officially cut that shit out,” Brooke suddenly felt herself being wrenched away from Vanessa, Akeria’s voice cutting through her hazy thoughts and bringing her back down to earth with a bump.

“Well, I feel like on that note,” Monet clapped her hands together decisively. “I’m away out to drink in the hot tub. Anyone else?”

One by one the girls agreed, dashing out of the room excitedly, and it was obvious to Brooke that everyone would be talking about what had just happened. Vanessa had run off quickly, her hand in Silky’s as the two dashed upstairs to get their swimwear on. The only girl that was left in the room as Brooke made to do the same was Akeria. She frowned at Brooke as they both left the room, a warning in her eyes which sent a chill down Brooke’s spine. Trying to ignore it, Brooke dashed upstairs, changed into her pink bikini and then ran outside to join the others. They wouldn’t talk about her and Vanessa’s kiss if she was there, so the less time she was away the better. Brooke grabbed a third beer from the fridge on her way out to the garden, and as she stepped outside she noticed how the moon already hung huge and bright in the sky, how the grass already had a shine of cold wet on it, and how everything looked almost a little bit magic. Joining the others and sitting between Yvie and Plastique, she tried to ignore Vanessa sitting opposite her in a black bikini that looked equally sinful as the outfit she’d been wearing before. Luckily the rest of the girls had no further desire to play drinking games, and talk instead turned to movies. Brooke didn’t join in. She couldn’t- too much was swirling around her mind, namely how good the kiss had felt. Scarlet had probably lied to make Yvie laugh- Vanessa had tasted like sugary coke, and the all too familiar scent of her perfume was still inexplicably clinging to Brooke. It had been weird to kiss after months of no contact at all. It had been a bad decision. Brooke had done yet another wrong thing.

So why did it feel somehow correct?

“Right!” Akeria said after a while, almost toppling over as she stood up. “I think I’m gettin’ a touch of the hypothermias. Who’s comin’ inside to watch Sister Act?”

“Bitch! That’s like, my favourite movie. Hell yes,” Monet sprang up, knocking Nina off her lap and into the middle of the hot tub. The girls erupted in a laugh, Brooke almost dropping her beer into the water. One by one, they all filed out of the water. Brooke was the last one left. Admittedly she didn’t want to leave- she was now tipsy enough to not feel the cold, and she could have lain back and stared at the white light of the full moon in the inky sky forever. Just as she was about to follow the others, she noticed that the second-to-last girl out of the hot tub was Vanessa. Brooke swallowed thickly, trying her best not to stare at how the small droplets of water clung to her thick thighs or how her tiny bikini barely covered her firm ass, or how her slick, wet hair cascaded down her back. Almost as if she could read Brooke’s mind, Vanessa slowly, tortuously turned around. She had a little wicked smile on her face, the kind she always used to wear when she flirted with Brooke. It made Brooke cross her legs and squeeze her thighs together.

“You got a good enough view from there?” she asked, playfulness coating her words as she spread both her arms out to lean against the back of the hot tub.

This was bad. This was not good. Brooke couldn’t flirt back. It would only lead to another really horrendous, catastrophic decision. Her mind was hot-wiring, and to her dismay she couldn’t come up with any form of quick-witted comeback. Noticing how long it was taking her to reply, Vanessa gave a throaty laugh.

“Hmm. I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she purred, crossing the water and sitting down close next to Brooke. Brooke tried her best not to choke as she took a sip from the bottle in her hand.

“Thought you were going to watch Sister Act?” she asked, trying to sound casual but cringing at how nervous she sounded as the words left her mouth. Her blood pressure dialled up a notch as Vanessa laced her fingers together, placed her hands on Brooke’s bare shoulder, then rested her head against her fingers.

“I don’t know. Think I’d rather see what’s so special about this view you love so much,” Vanessa murmured softly, Brooke not missing the way she rushed out the word ‘love’ as if to distil any awkwardness. She didn’t need to worry, though, because right now all Brooke could focus on was how good Vanessa looked in that black bikini, and how her red lipstick still clung to her plump lips as if it had just been applied, and her beautiful dark gaze from under her fake lashes.

“Hmm. It’s a pretty good view. Pretty beautiful,” Brooke found herself whispering, eliciting a sparkle from Vanessa’s eyes. Fuck. Shit. She shouldn’t have said that, it just seemed to have happened, but with Vanessa sitting pressed up so close to her how else could she have possibly reacted? There was a small silence in which Vanessa gave a small giggle, looking down at the constantly popping bubbles. The jet stream pummeled Brooke’s back to bits.

“What’s funny?” she smiled cautiously. Vanessa looked at her, something nostalgic on her face.

“Your pickup lines are still cringey as fuck,” she smirked, Brooke rolling her eyes a little. She had to steer this conversation back to normality. Whatever the fuck normality was as far as her and Vanessa were concerned.

“That wasn’t a pickup line. If I was trying to pick you up, you’d know about it.”

“Oh, I know about it, baby. Don’ worry,” Vanessa hit back instantly, Brooke taking the pet name like a fatal shot. Brooke knew that Vanessa knew what that word did to her in the right context with the right tone. Fuck. Bad idea, bad idea. She was determined not to lose whatever game this was. She would not do anything stupid. She would not ruin the tiny, small beginnings of this foundation of their friendship that they were gradually re-building. She would stand up and go inside and watch Whoopi fucking Goldberg dance about in a fucking habit and all would be right with the world again.

“Two and a half years, huh? You had it bad, bitch, I never knew I had that kind of effect on you,” Vanessa laughed suddenly, Brooke trying not to blush as she remembered Plastique’s words from earlier.

“Not that you’re letting it go to your head,” Brooke shrugged, taking a sip.

Vanessa giggled again. Brooke wished she wouldn’t. “Never.”

“Good compliment for you, I guess.”

“Better than beaud,” Vanessa smirked, snorting a laugh as Brooke tipped her head back and cringed. As she quietly stopped laughing, Vanessa shrugged lightly. “An’ I mean, nice to know I’m the hottest girl in the room too.”

Brooke let out a small sigh at having to confront her decision. “I mean just because we’re not dating any more doesn’t mean it’s not objectively true. By Western beauty standards you probably are the hottest girl in the room.”

Vanessa laughed again. “Western beauty standards, my God. I’m not even white, you dumb bitch.”

“Yeah, but…you’ve got this gorgeous skin, and all your shiny hair. And your eyes that go all twinkly when you’re happy,” Brooke explained. Where was all this coming from? “And you have perfect white teeth, and the best smile. I feel like you light up the whole room when you laugh.”

Brooke’s heart gave a twinge as Vanessa’s face broke out into a smile, tilting her face to the side a little inquisitively. Brooke gave a little cough, aware of all the compliments she’d given her. “And you have a really good figure as well, so, yeah.”

“Oh, obviously. Well, we all know how much you like that,” Vanessa smirked cheekily, Brooke suddenly snapping her neck round to face her properly.

“What?”

“Liked that. Like, liked. Whatever. We’re friends now, we can laugh about it,” Vanessa shrugged, the words coming out of her mouth confirming their status at once relieving Brooke and putting her on edge. They were back to being friends. This was what Brooke wanted, right? Vanessa still had the little cheeky grin on her face as she spoke again. “Friends who still kiss each other, apparently.”

“Well, you kissed Scarlet,” Brooke said, trying to make it as nonchalant as possible. Judging by Vanessa’s smug reaction, she hadn’t succeeded.

“You seem pressed.”

“Not pressed! Just saying,” Brooke tried to protest gently but felt she came on way too heavy.

“Mhm. There’s just one problem about all this, though…” Vanessa murmured, her tone charged with something that immediately made the hairs on Brooke’s arm stand on end, giving her goosebumps.

And then, with one fluid movement, Vanessa moved to straddle her.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

Brooke’s heart almost flatlined as Vanessa spoke, her face still wearing the tiniest cocky smile that Brooke so badly wanted to kiss off of her. “It’s kinda hard to try an’ be friends with you when I know what you look like with no clothes on.”

Brooke tried her best to keep her voice level. “Well, it’s also kind of hard to try and be friends with you when you’re flirting with me.”

“It’s also hard to be friends with you when I know what your kinks are…” Vanessa brought her arms around Brooke’s neck and barely concealed a smile as she bucked her hips ever so slightly. “…Mami.”

Brooke felt the tiniest hiss escape her lips, glad it wasn’t the fuck that had immediately popped into her head.

“It’s kind of hard to be friends with you when you’re riding my thigh…or when you’re coming on to me like this,” Brooke replied, keeping one hand firmly on the side of the hot tub and the other wrapped around the glass bottle in her hand so tight she thought it would smash.

“Coming on to you?” Vanessa suddenly tipped her head back and laughed, Brooke immediately realising what she’d said. “That can be arranged, you want face, tongue or fingers?”

“Fuck’s sake, Vanessa,” Brooke laughed softly, letting one of her hands drop down under the water and rest against Vanessa’s thigh. As Brooke’s thumb rubbed at her skin softly, she tried to reason with herself. Just because she was stroking Vanessa’s skin, and had her on top of her, and was basically talking dirty to her, didn’t mean that anything was actually going to happen.

“I know you miss me, Brooke,” Vanessa said, her tone matter-of-fact as she straightened up a little in Brooke’s lap, Brooke eyeing the way her breasts were pushed up.

Brooke had to think carefully about her response. She knew she’d hurt Vanessa, so she had to keep things light. “I mean, it kind of looks like you miss me, baby.”

Oh fuck, that pet name was a mistake. Vanessa’s smile was sultry as she pushed one of her hands into Brooke’s hair. “Me? Nah, I’m just doin’ this because it’s fun. Monique’s treatin’ me very well.”

Jesus fucking Christ, Vanessa knew how to hit Brooke where it hurt. Brooke pursed her lips. She wanted to fight dirty, she would give as good as she got. “And that’s why you’re cheating on her?”

Vanessa burst out laughing. “Oh, bitch, please! Me and her aren’t exclusive! We ain’t even a thing! She vents to me about her ex, I vent to her about you, and then we fuck away our frustrations!”

A part of Brooke’s heart soared up into the black sky like a helium balloon. She didn’t think she’d shown her relief on her face until Vanessa gave a laugh. “So. You ain’t denied it.”

“Denied what?”

“That you miss me,” she shrugged, giving a little look down at Brooke’s hands on her thighs. Brooke couldn’t pinpoint when she’d brought the other one down under the water but apparently she had done. Her throat was dry as she considered her response. Before she could get there, Vanessa threw her mind into chaos as she brought her hands back behind her head, fidgeted for a moment, then suddenly threw her bikini top across the decking. As Brooke’s gaze flicked down to Vanessa’s full breasts, the other girl brought one finger up and tilted her chin up to face her. The heat between Brooke’s legs was unbearable, and she felt her paper-thin resolve rapidly melting away. Vanessa smirked. “You wanna kiss me so bad right now, don’t you? Like you kissed me earlier. You can’t even stay away.“

Vanessa seemed to edge closer to Brooke, although they were already so close that seemed an impossible feat. Brooke raised an eyebrow. “See, I feel like if Monique fucked you as good as you say she does, you wouldn’t be in my lap right now.”

Vanessa blinked slowly, mockingly. “Oh, baby. You don’t want to know the things I let her do to me.”

Brooke bristled. The tension between them and Vanessa’s teasing was getting her riled. “You’re right, I don’t.”

“Aww. You jealous, baby?” Vanessa pouted. This was going to drive Brooke insane. Her mind constantly swung between this being a bad idea and a good idea, and she had no idea which it would settle on.

Brooke locked eyes with Vanessa, the other girl’s gaze a challenge. “No.”

“You sure? You seemed jealous when I kissed Scarlet earlier, I saw your face.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Brooke repeated, holding her gaze with Vanessa. Their faces weren’t too close but their bodies were, and Brooke felt as if she was a ticking time bomb.

“So you ain’t jealous of Monique?” Vanessa murmured inquisitively. Brooke shook her head, now unable to tear her gaze away from her lips which had felt so perfect against her own earlier. “You ain’t jealous of the fact she gets to ride my face and get my pretty lil’ tongue working her clit? You ain’t jealous of the fact that it’s her name I’m crying out when I cum on her fingers? You ain’t-”

Frustrated, tense, and out of willpower, Brooke let out a low growl as she finally brought her hands up to Vanessa’s jaw and crashed their lips together, kissing her wildly and deeply and running her hands over every inch of Vanessa’s skin she was able to touch. She didn’t even care that she’d proven Vanessa right, because she had missed this, missed her, missed the way they just seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle and dear sweet fucking Jesus she’d been an idiot to give up this sex. Brooke whined needily as she felt Vanessa pull away, the other girl laughing against her lips.

“You don’t kiss like a girl who ain’t jealous,” Vanessa tutted, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Or one that don’t miss me.”

Brooke ran her hands up and down her back and pouted. “Shut up.”

“Hmm. That ain’t no way to talk to me if you’re planning on getting what you want, lil’ brat,” Vanessa raised her eyebrows, bringing one of her hands down to rub at Brooke’s hipbone. Brooke let out a whimper and bucked her hips. She needed Vanessa so badly, and her words were only making things worse. Or better.

“Fuck, please, Vanessa, shit,” Brooke hissed, not caring about how pathetic and needy she looked now as she brought one of her hands up and rubbed a thumb over one of Vanessa’s nipples. Brooke felt her clit throb as Vanessa gave a little hum of delight at the contact. Her fingers had only been there for a second before Vanessa grabbed her wrist and held it down under the water, the sudden force causing Brooke’s eyes to grow wide.

“You broke my fuckin’ heart an’ now you really think I’m gonna make it that easy for you?” she barked a laugh, a guilty twinge tugging at Brooke’s rapid heart. “Fuck that. I want to hear you beg me to fuck you. You’re gonna have to work for me, baby. Shit’s on my terms.”

“Fuck, Vanessa, I really don’t give a shit how desperate I sound,” Brooke sighed, the shock of the prospect of Vanessa changing her mind about all this lighting a fire in Brooke. “Please, please, please, please, baby, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything you want, just fucking touch me, please-”

Brooke cut herself off with her own moan as Vanessa ran a hand down her body and lightly pressed two fingers against her, rubbing gently and making Brooke want to sob.

“Good girl,” Vanessa purred, Brooke writhing underneath her and completely past the point of thinking about any of the consequences of any of this. “You miss me, don’t you?”

“Fuck, so much.”

“You been missin’ this?”

“Shit yes, so much.”

Vanessa’s eyes were dark as Brooke looked up at her. “Nobody’s gonna fuck you like me, are they?”

Brooke’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, thinking that at this point if Vanessa asked her to get married she probably would’ve booked the damn venue. “No, only you, baby, fuck.”

“Mm, such a good girl,” Vanessa smirked, Brooke’s clit giving a spasm as she thought now was really not the time to realise she had a praise kink. “I don’t know, though. You seemed pretty sure you wouldn’t miss me when you ended things.”

“I do miss you, 'Ness, I promise, I’m sorry, I’ll beg on my knees if you want me to, I don’t give a fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy all night…so fucking perfect, shit…"

"Mm…you would look so pretty on your knees,” Vanessa leaned in and murmured into Brooke’s ear, pressing the lightest little kiss to her neck and almost sending Brooke over the edge before anything had even happened yet.

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby, fuck, I want you to feel like you’re the most gorgeous fucking goddess in the world,” Brooke gasped as Vanessa brought her other hand down to touch herself, the sight of her working Brooke and herself into a frenzy the hottest thing she’d seen in months. Her mind short-circuited, and she struggled to know if anything she said made any sense. “Jesus Christ, Vanessa, please fuck me, I can’t take much more-"

Pride glinted in Vanessa’s eyes before she leaned in and kissed Brooke, hot and wet with her fingers still rubbing and teasing her through the material. Pulling away, she motioned to the decking around the hot tub. “Lie back then, baby.”

As Brooke almost drove her face into the decking in her haste to scramble out of the hot tub she ignored the little voice in the back of her head that told her everything about this was a bad idea, and instead focused on the one that screamed it was the best decision she’d made in months.s

84 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

III. On the road, and off the road

Summary: The three of you travel to Cincy where they find out a lot more about your family. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Uh hu h uh uh u huhuhh whaaaaat is happening??? Seriously though, there will be a short angsty segment soon, and then we can get back to the tomfoolery. XX

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

A heavy weight on your stomach wakes you up the next morning. Buckeye has climbed onto the couch and over your body, placing his chin right on your sternum. His tail whacks against your propped-up foot as you begin to stir, and he plants a wet good morning kiss with his nose right over your mouth.

“Ah!” You cry, wiping it off with the back of your hand, “Geez!” He does it again and you can’t help but laugh, even though it’s cold and slimy. He looks pleased as punch as he flops his head back on your chest and stares lovingly into your eyes. Yes, you think, only an animal can love you in the morning. Eye crusts, dragon breath, and all. Stupid big-ass dog makes you soft and gooey.

“C’mon. Off.” You pretend to be annoyed and he slides onto the floor with a whine and follows you into the restroom as you brush your teeth.

Taking in the damage to your apartment— which is none at all, you figure it ended well last night. There’s a memory of you throwing vodka at Tinder-Date-Dickhead and then taking an Uber home. Good call on not driving, you pat yourself on the back and take Bucky outside.

Three alerts are on top of the speech bubble when you get a chance to look at your phone afterwards. Natasha. Steve.

Nat: Sunnywaters?

You heave a sigh and reply: Dude stop threatening me.

Then, you open the other message.

Steve: You up? Buck and I are packing— swimsuits? Yes or no? Also Cincinnati has its own Coney Island… ha ha ha very funny. I bet it stinks compared to the [1/2]

Steve: “real” Coney. Do your parents know we’re coming? I’d hate to intrude. [2/2]

You punch the green call button and rush back inside, scaring Buckeye a little with your sudden frantic movements.

“Good morning!” Steve’s voice sounds like a firecracker. And then he’s popping off in your ear, “Did you get my messages? Bucky and I are happy to stay in a hotel or something – called aerobean? Renting a house? I’m not really sure how that works.”

“It’s called airbnb, you fossil.” You respond off-handedly before catching yourself. “Stop, stop, why are you going to Cincinnati? And what about my parents?”

“You invited us. Are we leaving … today?”

Your face drains completely of color when it hits you— a nebulous and dizzying baseball bat swing to the temple. Last night crashes back into your mind: Steve, looking down, patting sympathetically. Two arms— turning you protectively until the room is sideways. You remember the way the blanket was tucked under your chin and around your shoulders.

“…Did you— did you t-tuck me in?” You ask hesitantly. Steve makes a negative grunt on the other line.

“Buck did that. He said he thought you’d get cold.”

“Oh…. Kay….” You whisper. “Uh. How set are you on Cinci?” You cross your fingers and hope he’ll back out purely based on how pathetic you sound. “It’s a ten-hour drive, dude. You guys okay with that?”

“Sure!” Steve chirps back. “We’ll take turns driving. Although Buck’s kind of a wheel-hog. Gets nervous when he’s not in charge.”

In the distance, you hear Bucky protest and it makes your mouth go dry.

“Uh. Okay. I usually leave early so… meet me here at six tomorrow.”

You hang up and bang the back of your head against the wall. The baseball bat of memory swings again.

You think you might faint because you start to recall last night: the metal hand lifting your head and placing the pillow under your hair. You even remember telling Bucky you loved him? It’s bewildering because you certainly do not love him. What was that thing that T-Pain said again? Your heart squeezes in your chest as you search around frantically for some scapegoat. Ah—yeah, T-Pain famously warbled: Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-cohol.

Your body flies over the outfield and into the bleachers before crashing. It’s the most agonizing homerun.

Steve, you think, is probably the one skipping past bases and winking. Somehow, this is all his damn fault.

—

Buckeye scoots around the back of your car, shifting so his weight lands primarily on the cushiony bed. His head is laid gently on Bucky’s thigh, who lost to rock paper scissors and must get squished in the backseat. Lucky for him, you pack lightly, and your legs are much shorter than Steve’s. Unlucky for you, that means he’s right behind you, radiating the heat of a thousand terrifying and silent suns.

It’s been thirty minutes since you started driving. Every time you look into the rear view, Bucky’s blue eyes look back. At this point, you have no idea if any cars are behind you because you will not let yourself look again.

“This is nice.” Steve says breezily, commenting on the silence. You had barely spoken to them when they arrived, instead busied yourself with playing Tetris with your luggage and theirs as well as the fabric box of Bucky’s--- BUCKEYE’s things. God damn it.

“Love it when it’s quiet. Nothing but the road and--” Steve continues.

“Oh, shut up!” You and Bucky reply in unison. You glare up into the mirror. Bucky glares right back. The embarrassment of last night snuffs itself out. Love? In this motherfucker’s dreams.

To your side, Steve stares out the window to hide his smirk.

—

The music of your so-called Driving Playlist bumps through the car speakers. You’ve been subjecting them to your chaotic tastes for the last hour. Every new song is jarring and different than the one before it. There’s Christmas carols. Frenetic Japanese electropop. Incredibly explicit gansta rap. Something else sounds like a broken harmonica for eight whole goddamn minutes. Inexplicable genres and band names. In the middle of a warbly bass line and shrieking synths, you explain that this track is from a “witch house" group you particularly enjoyed as a young girl.

The terms “witch house” and “young girl” so close together makes the both of them shudder. Steve is petrified at the end of each song because the next one always seems to be worse. Bucky squeezes his face between two fully stuffed bags and groans as loudly as he can.

You stop to get gas and Steve walks Buckeye around the perimeter of the station. Bucky comes out from the sliding doors holding three Gatorades and cold brew coffee.

“Drink up.” He commands, flinging a pink bottle at you. “My turn to drive.”

You shake the nozzle when it clicks off and roll your eyes. “No way.”

“You can’t even see over the steering wheel.” You flip him off and silently mock him, rolling your eyes and scrunching up your nose. Then, you replace the nozzle and head inside to use the restroom, flipping him off another time for good measure.

“Don’t! Even!” You threaten behind your shoulder. But of course, by the time you’re halfway to the door, he’s already slid in the driver’s seat.

—

The only way you would stop bitching is if Bucky let you pick the music. So, the cord remains faithfully attached to your phone. And that dreaded playlist.

---

An hour later, your leg bounces from the back, knocking your knee into Steve’s seat. You’ve had to piss like a racehorse for the last twenty minutes and you feel like a fucking water balloon, about to pop. Steve turns around, elbow on the center console and quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yessssss..” you could probably weep right now. No. No thinking of tears because tears are water. No fucking water.

“You’re shaking my seat pretty rough.” Steve accuses.

“You have to go again, don’t you? Jesus, what are you, four?” You’d think about how much you hate him but your bladder requires way more attention right now. This is the best posture you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your back is straight and you’re arching forward slightly—anything to relieve the pressure.

“I’m—- Ugh!” You shriek as the car runs over something and the entire thing rocks up, kicking a sharp jab into your lower abdomen. A wave of chills runs over your arms. “Oh no…” You whisper. Buckeye perks up and begins to sniff around, investigating your concern.

“Maybe I peed a little.” You admit sheepishly, squeezing your thighs together as well as your eyes.

“The next stop isn’t for another half hour…” Steve laments.

“Dirty Keanu Reeves over here gave me Gatorade!” You shake the bottle between them, 32 empty strawberry-flavored sugar-free ounces in all it’s glory. Even the wrapping has been peeled off. Steve sends the both of you a reproachful glare.

“I didn’t think she’d guzzle the whole damn thing!” He chooses to ignore your new nickname for him. He doesn’t even know who Keanu Reeves is. It’s a shame, really.

“Oh please stop arguing please pull over I swear I’ll piss in the forest I don’t care please.” Your words are running together like a waterfall. No. Not a waterfall. Oh god, you think, do not imagine any waterfalls. Bucky flips the blinker on and checks his blind spot before navigating to the right carefully. He puts on the hazards and stops your car—half on the emergency lane and half in the grass. Outside the window is about 200 feet of wildflowers before it turns dark with thick trees.

He turns and takes Steve’s place in-between the cloth seats. “There you are, princess. Pop a squat. Or stand. Just fucking hurry.”

“If I had a dick, Barnes, it would be way bigger than yours.” You push Bucky out of the way and wiggle until you can reach the glove compartment, elbowing Steve’s face in the process. There, your fingers yank a few tissues smushed into the corner of the dusty slot and you bolt. Oh sweet six-pound-and-four-ounces Jesus Christ you’ve never been so happy to piss in the woods.

Steve pats Bucky’s thigh as they watch you shred through the white and orange stalks, ripping a path through the peaceful country green. “Nah, Buck.” He smiles, “You’re pretty big.” Bucky slams the back of his head into the seat and lets out a long-suffering groan.

When you come back you fly into the car and moan happily. Bucky turns around to give you a snarky comment, but you hiss at him like an angry wildcat. “Saw a dead possum in the woods, man.” You say, “Looks just like you.”

—

Both you and Steve are asleep, along with the dog. It’s been a little over an hour now. The Captain reclines in the passenger seat, sunglasses on. You’re pitched over Buckeye, head resting on your splayed arm. The three orders of family-sized burger meals knocked you out first, then Steve. There’s hardly any room in the car for the enormous amount of trash that entailed, but you made do with the space next to your leg and stuffed the bag between you and the door.

Bucky slurps his coffee and drives in silence, frowning when the idea that he misses your bullshit finds him.

—

“God, can we listen to anything else?” Bucky grumbles when some mindless tune comes back on. You smile because Rebecca Black’s “Friday” is your goddamn jam. It’s the single best song to piss off any living person or animal and you embrace it whole-heartedly.

You let Steve browse the rest of your selection, waiting patiently for the inevitable—

“What is this?” He yelps. “Gay for Jesus?” His fingers continue to scroll, “What kind of playlist names are these? Sad n Sexy Santa? Who’s got the Biggest Dick in Baseball?” You’re cackling madly. It doesn’t stop there. “Fingerblast Fest of 2017?”

“What does that even mean?” Bucky mutters.

“Made it for a lesbian couple. Anniversary present.”

Bucky’s face scrunches up with confusion and you enlighten him by leaning forward and thrusting two fingers back and forth so vigorously his seat shakes like an industrial-sized dryer set on high.

“Oh fuckin’ A!” He cries, jerking his head away from your hand. Steve turns red as a beet. “Okay, new rule...” he sighs, turning your phone over on his lap, “Do not ask about playlist names.”

Traffic has clogged up the highway. It’s deadlocked and immobile, stuck in the middle of a big city—all smog and industry. There’s not even good scenery to look at. You are buried in-between the pages of a book, taking advantage of the stillness by reading as much as you can. After this, you’ll have to brush up on your Latin, too. Then Greek. It’s annoying, but at least you don’t have to do another summer immersion program somewhere in bumfuck Florida this year.

A folky tune comes on and it’s a welcome reprieve. Bucky and Steve look up when you start humming along, voice coming out to follow the melody.

“Didn’t know you could sing.” Steve comments.

“Habeo multum talenta.” You reply—brain tuned to Latin. It makes them both wonder what else you can do.

Two hours left to go before the three of you reach your destination. You’ve switched out with Steve, who begrudgingly sits in the back, legs pushed up nearly to his chest while you stretch up front, cracking your back every which way. Bucky has refused to move from the driver’s side.

The music halts for a couple of hours while conversations meander. All sorts of subjects are breached now that there is nothing else to do but talk. The last two months of knowing them, although made you more comfortable, didn’t quite allow you to learn as much as this single car ride has. Most of what you could understand from them was made through your own observations, but now they are more or less open books.

Sometimes, the words hang heavy in the air— old, bulbous and dusty ornaments they polish for you. Steve talks about the war. Bucky does too. You have lots of questions on your end and they illuminate all of them with personal spotlights.

Sometimes, it returns to the playfulness you are used to.

Steve vomited on the cyclone. Bucky lost three dollars trying to win a bear for a girl. You tell him you blew through thirty-five dollars on a crane machine once (for yourself) and the two of you share a moment of solidarity together. Although, it’s hard for you to imagine him as some flirtatious young man and Steve can see it on your face.

“New gal every two weeks.” He informs.

“Were there even that many women in Brooklyn?” You gasp, scandalized.

“They came from all over to get a look at Buck.”

Bucky only rolls his eyes, but you see a smile tug on the other side of his face.

“What was wrong with them?” You whisper on-brand with your usual self, but the memory of his laughter by your front door glows rosy in your mind. Yeah, you can see how girls would get themselves in a tizzy for him. Winter Soldier with his mask on hardly turned heads as much as Captain Adonis America, but if you take a second to look at him, it’s easy to see how built he is. Like a Greek statue. Even his aura is enthralling—a bit secretive, a little dark. He could definitely use that to his advantage.

The smile grows into an almost feral grin—there's that aura, you think. “You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” He nearly growls.

You sit back and pretend to busy yourself with petting Buckeye because the pink crawling up your neck is about to choke you blue.

Bucky pulls off the familiar highway, drives a distance down the curved road next to the river and you lean back, breathing in that familiar fishy and slightly sickly sewage air.

“Aw yeah. Welcome to Cincy.” You laugh. Steve ducks his head to watch the scene, squinting at billboards and watching houses whiz by.

“What’s Skyline Chili?” He asks as the car zooms by an advertisement. A questionable pile of shredded cheese overtakes the (apparently) chili and hot dog on the otherwise blue sign.

“Depending on your taste, either the best or worst thing you’ll ever eat.” The smile on your face widens when he furrows his brow. “Oh, my sweet summer child... you’re in for a treat.”

Your neighborhood comes into view and you wistfully stare at the immaculate paved roads, manicured wide green lawns, blonde-haired moms pushing baby strollers, and dogs trailing behind them on loose leashes. Buckeye pads around as much as he can in the back, stepping over your lap repeatedly as he begins to recognize where he’s at.

“Pretty nice neighborhood.” Steve comments, making a slow turn. The GPS pulls him into a driveway leading up to your parent’s ranch-style home. They both whistle at the garden in bloom and the cobblestone path. You point him to pull around to the garage where your father’s Benz is parked. The old willow tree hangs over it, weeping petals and leaves on the windshield.

“Holy shit.” Bucky mutters at how the rosebushes and magnolia pots wrap even around the side and the back. The deck is littered with more flowers and potted plants. A stained glass table. Even the outdoor chairs have beautiful plush cushions. There seems to be a room underneath the slope of the yard—perhaps a basement transformed into a living space. Everything matches perfectly. “You do have money.”

You sigh.

“It’s not my money. It’s my parents’.” The scathing and bitter tone makes him frown, but you hop out anyway, slinging two bags over your shoulder and nudging Buckeye into the yard. Your dog happily pounces all over the greenery, chasing butterflies and barking.

“You sure they’re ok with this?” Steve asks carefully.

You nod, “There are lots of perks to being the prodigal son. Daughter, in my case.”

“Thought you had a dick.” Bucky sneers.

“Get with the times, old man. Gender is an illusion.”

—

The house is empty. You lead them through the front door and into the hall where it branches into three areas. There’s a railing and staircase that leads down, but for now they take in the sights on this floor. The first step points straight to the dining room where the table is already lined with china and perfectly arranged. Silk napkins. Crystal glasses. Delicately carved mahogany display cabinet.

On the right is the living space and kitchen where the color scheme turns to a pale aqua, cream, and gold accents. Two scooped leather seats face the flat screen, flanked by built-in shelves filled with books. There is also a small couch and a seafoam armchair and matching ottoman. The coffee table is a gorgeous marble, flecked with gold.

They turn and look down the other way, noticing a large mirror entombed by a heavy decorated frame in between two doors. The walkway continues right and disappears even further down.

You stare at them. They stare back.

“Please don’t.” You beg, dropping your bags with a heavy sigh; this is why you didn’t want them coming. You hate it when people comment on your parents’ house. And they haven’t even seen the pool or tennis court. Or the downstairs living area with the grand piano your fingers nearly bled all over from countless hours of practice. Or the family oil painting you sat for when you were a kid. Fuck.

“I fucking hate it.” Bucky says nonchalantly. “Gaudy shit. Too big. This place haunted?”

You could leap into his arms if they weren’t carrying his bag and your dog’s stuff. Instead, you settle for a genuine smile, all warmth and radiance because you feel it in your heart—the appreciation for his understanding wrapped in snark. “Now we’re talking. C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You guys can stay in my childhood bedroom.”

They finally drop their bags on the bay window seat in your old room after you unlock it. It’s always been like this— and you never let your parents come in. You open the middle of the window and let the room air out a little and the afternoon light pours in. Your old pictures are still on the shelves. Trophies. Music books. Your suede riding helmet, too. They wander around, peering at the images.

“Where are your parents?” Steve asks.

You shrug and plop down on the king-size bed out of habit, lying back with your legs dangling off the edge. Buckeye hops on with you and pads around a bit before he settles into a bagel-like swirl of a shape. “Ibiza. Dubai. Paris. Virgin Islands. Take your pick. My dad has property in all of them.” You message him anyway. You’re not surprised they’re gone for the summer. You don’t really come back for them; you mostly come back to get away from Manhattan.

“Wow.” Steve mutters.

“He even owns part of a mountain in Colorado. It’s vile. Historically, we’re from Ohio… ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.” You feel like a child again, and being in this space doesn’t help.

Steve examines the paintings in the room and flips through scattered books on the work desk. Bucky trails around your bookshelves, looking at the frames, picking some up here and there to examine what’s inside. “Who’s this?”

Peeking up you blow a pppffbbfbfbt breath of air out between your lips. It’s you, duh. Except your hair is perfectly curled and piled atop your head— a bird’s nest cushion for a sparkly tiara. Your eyes are piled heavily with so much eyeshadow and lash extensions it looks like an ombré spider web, and you’re wearing a low-cut dress swirling with rhinestones. Across your torso is a sash. Yep. Homecoming Queen. You’re pressed up against your date, all smiles, sharp cheeks, shoulders so thin he can see your skeleton jutting out. Over ten years ago, you were a much different person.

“Laugh it up, Barnes.” You mutter. “Thas ya girl, sweet sixteen, massively underweight, and aspiring to be the shiniest trophy wife of them all.”

“Why would I laugh?” He asks, suddenly solemn. Bucky turns to look at you, sprawled out on the bed, sardonic smile plastered to your face. “You don’t look very happy.” He still has the picture in his hand. Steve has paused, too, closing a heavy leather-bound first edition. Being caught in the middle of two concerned stares makes you heavy with anxiety and dread. Instead of spending another second under their gaze, you shoot up and motion for Buckeye to follow.

“Don’t be fucking weird, man.” Then, you’re already up the stairs.

Steve and Bucky glance at each other and Bucky places the picture back on the shelf.

—

In the downstairs living space next to their room, you pour three glasses of thirty-year-old single malt whiskey from the cabinet and plop down on the piano bench. The boys sit on the couch and regard you curiously as you open the cover and stare at the ivory keys. Your foot stomps on each of the paddles underneath vengefully. Then you tip your head back, whiskey along with it, and slam the cover shut with a trembling crash. “Fuck you, Mozart.” You whisper, as if the piano can hear.

You peek downstairs after your bath and call, “Hey! My parents use a water softener so if you feel slimy… it’s normal.” The whiskey has made you flush with excitement and volatile energy.

Steve’s head pops out from the bathroom doorway, neck and chest red from the heat. “Oh, thank God.” He says, “Buck’s been scrubbing for hours.”

“Who the fuck would do this!” Bucky’s voice echoes from the same tiled space. You can practically see it shooting out from the room behind Steve’s shoulder to crash into the adjacent wall like a comic panel.

The towel on top of your head slips and you attempt to grab it quickly, using your other hand to hold onto the knot around your chest. “You guys fucking in there?!”

Steve only grins and sends you a wink, mischievous expression catching you off guard. The towel tumbles down the stairs and your hair slaps itself over your face. The two of you watch the fluffy sheet spread over the bottom of the steps before staring at each other. “You gonna get that?” He asks.

“No.” You reply, abruptly mortified, “It’s yours now.”

Apparently, Steve Rogers has chosen this very moment to make it known that partners is not only platonic in meaning. You don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, because you’ve been harassing them for months about who’s a bottom (you bet all four limbs it’s Bucky), but suddenly the moment is confronting you and all you can do is think about how you’re naked and third-wheeling … in your own damn home. And that maybe you shouldn’t have had all that whiskey.

Captain America rubs the tip of his nose absentmindedly, “You alright?” There is genuine concern in his eyes as he steps out of the doorway and reveals his –NAKED! NAKED!

“No!” You scream, turning your head and hiding behind your outstretched hand. “No! Don’t! You fucking stay there you—Fucking A, Steve!”

He’s not really naked; he’s wrapped hip-down in a towel, but you don’t even want to see the outline of him. As far as you know, he’s a smooth-crotched Ken Doll. Maybe Bucky has like, three dicks. There is so much panic inside of you right now.

The water stops from the shower and rustling is heard as Bucky dries off. You attempt to slowly back up away from the steps and move back into the confines of your own room until your dog springs past you like a loose cannonball and sails downstairs. He banks left into the bathroom and licks a stripe over Steve’s shin before finding his true target: Bucky.

There is tumbling, banging, wincing from you and Steve as Buckeye clobbers his human doppelganger once more. Then, there is yelling and cussing—Steve, moving inside to help, but then more crashing follows before Buckeye tears from the bathroom and up the stairs with two towels clenched tightly in his mouth.

“No…” You whisper, when he drops them at your feet. His tongue flops against his chin and he looks up expectantly, as if you might reward him for his endeavor. Steve’s head peeks out again, and the wry smile he sends your way says: you’re fucked.

Next Chapter

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #self insert #fanfiction #FiMS

772 notes · View notes